Rekindle the Lost
by Mia Shade
Summary: Post-‘The Girl in Question’. Wesley has one last chance to save Fred and send Illyria to hell; however, with Fred imprisoned inside herself and fighting her own battles, and Illyria's power growing again, can Wes get to her before time runs out? COMPL
1. Chapter One

Rekindle the Lost

By Yasashii Tsubasa

Summary: Post-'The Girl in Question'. Illyria's loss of power results in Fred's short return before she is imprisoned inside herself. Now, with one last chance, Wes is working desperately—with Fred unknowingly by his side—but time is running out…

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own it.

Pairing: Fred/Wes, some Wes/Illyria

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please.

Distribution: Fanfiction.net, and WNW. Anyone else, please ask.

A/N: Sorry ahead for the periods (.) at random points--pretend they aren't there. ff.net is being incredibly stupid and not formatting the way it should, and if anyone has a remedy for this, please tell me.

------

Chapter One

The last thing she remembered was Wesley's face, his tears indistinguishable from her own, the warmth and comfort of his tight embrace. Then an icy numbness had spread up her from her toes to her head; and when it reached her mind, everything had gone dark and cold.

She was freezing, trembling, naked without Wes' arms around her. She felt like crying forever; the sensation of endlessly drowning overwhelmed her mind, and in the corner of consciousness was the constant realization that she had died, that she had left Wesley forever.

Then, stabbing fiercely into her grief, there was an alien presence there, tapping her face, whispering in her ear: _Wake up._

So Fred opened her eyes.

.

She was sitting alone in her own darkened lab, in her chair. Her chest felt like it was on fire, and every nerve ending was tingling. God, she was in pain.

" Wait just a sec…how did I get here? And at—" she looked at her watch. "—one in the morning?"

Fred closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing, trying to remember what had happened. The last image of Wesley's face echoed in her head, and—

" Oh, my god," she whispered. " I died."

Fred's gaze turned to the portable phone that she always kept in close range on her desk. After a moment, she jumped for it as if there were demons trying to get it, falling off the chair and tumbling to the floor in the process. Clutching her prize and seized with the sudden feeling that she didn't have much time, Fred dialled Wes' number with shaking hands and hugged her knees to her chest with one arm as it rang once, twice, then three more times.

" What—who is it?" the sleepy voice on the other end asked. Fred felt tears in her throat at his voice.

" Wes—Wesley, it's me. It's Fred."

Silence. Then: " Illyria, stop it. stop it now, or I will kill you, do you understand? I don't know how you figured out how to use the phone, but you had better hang up and think about a place to hide for when I come down there."

The tears began to fall. " Please, Wes!" Fred sobbed. " Please. Oh god, it's me, I don't know what happened or how I got here, but I don't understand and I don't think I have much time left!" Fred curled back under her desk, trying, instinctively, to be as small as possible. She held the phone in a vice-like grip. " Wesley, I love you, I love you so much, and everything hurts me right now, and I don't know what to do."

" Illyria, stop it!"

" Wesley, it's me," Fred blubbered into the phone. The burning in her limbs was getting worse. " It's me, it's Fred, it's me, it's me…it's…me…"

" Goodbye, Illyria. I will see you in the morning, at which time we will discuss this in detail, and I can promise that—" 

" –oh, god, Wesley, help me!" Fred screamed as she felt her skin begin to burn, searing her through with white-hot pain. She dropped the phone and slumped over with a shriek, shaking like a puppet.

Then, the blackness came again.

.

" God, Wes, what happened to you?" Angel asked as Wesley sat down at his desk. " You look like you didn't sleep at all last night."

Wes sighed and rubbed at his red eyes. " That's probably because I didn't, Angel. I got a call at one in the morning, from Illyria."

Angel blinked. " What?"

Wes toyed with a file. " Yes. She…she was impersonating…the body's former occupant. Again."

" Again…"

After Wes explained what had happened with Fred's parents, and her wish to explore Fred's relationship with Wes, Angel sighed and sat down.

" So what did Illyria say to you on the phone, as Fred?"

Wes closed his eyes and rubbed them again. " She was…she was crying. She said that she was scared, that she didn't have much time left, and that…and that…that she loved me. She was toying with me, Angel. When I came down last night after the phone call, I saw her there, just sitting in the lab. And after I told her specifically not to do it again, she…"

Wes trailed off, a murderous look suddenly in his eyes. Angel looked around to see Illyria standing in the doorway, head tilted slightly, staring at the two men.

Wes' jaw was set as he spoke. " Illyria." She stepped forward, into the office, acknowledging that she had heard. Wesley began to rise, his entire body set to attack, like a tiger. " Angel and I were just discussing the little bit of fun you had last night by calling me."

Illyria's head tilted a bit further in confusion, and then she turned her nose up in the air, scoffing at him, refusing. " I did nothing last night, and not what you speak of."

Wes swallowed, and remained standing. " Do you mean to say that you cannot remember what you did last night?"

Illyria paused, her blue eyes boring into his soul; they narrowed slightly with hate of submission. " No, I cannot remember. All was black; I chose to make it that way." With that, she turned and left.

Wesley hung his head. " This is bad."

Angel nodded. " She really does have a superiority complex that needs some work."

The Englishman sighed. " I don't know what to do with her, Angel. This is getting out of hand."

There was a knock at the door, and the two men looked up to see an attendant holding a file, looking slightly timid in the doorway.

" Er—Mr. Wyndham-Price, I have the Davidson case here for you. Accounting needs it back by eleven, is that all right?"

Wes nodded as the file was placed on his desk. " Yes, thank you, Barney. I'll be done with it soon."

Angel watched Wes sit down with the file. " Hey, Wes, are you going to be okay?"

Wesley looked up and smiled one of the saddest smiles that the two-hundred-year-old vampire had ever seen. " Pretend, Angel. Pretend."

.

The palace of Fred's soul was a big, sunny farmhouse, with yellow curtains and warm quilts on the beds and flowers everywhere. The next time Fred awoke, it was in the bedroom, a tiny loft stuck above the other two storeys of the house. She lay in bed and let the tears squeeze from her eyes onto the pillow. Her heart felt as though it would break at the memory of Wesley's voice, disbelieving, on the phone.

After a few minutes, Fred stopped crying and realized that she was in this house, seemingly alone, and that she had most definitely not been here the last time that the darkness that was Illyria had overcome her body. Fred knew precious little about the human soul, but she knew for sure that if she was here, than she most certainly had one.

Fred slipped out from beneath the blankets and walked over to the window, looking out onto endless golden fields. In the sky, grey clouds were forming.

She didn't have to go downstairs to know that she was a prisoner here. Fred wasn't stupid; she knew that Illyria's complete hold on her soul must have been lost, causing her to come back, if only for a short while. Now Fred was back in this place, in her soul's house, which meant that Illyria was weaker, unable to completely dominate Fred's soul, only to imprison it.

Maybe she could be broken again. Perhaps permanently.

.

That night, Wes arrived at his room above Wolfram and Hart, mentally and physically exhausted. He sat down on the couch and pressed the message button on the answering machine, closing his eyes.

" You have one new message. First message:

'What—who is it?"

' Wes—Wesley, it's me. It's Fred.'"

Wesley's eyes shot open.

" 'Illyria, stop it. stop it now, or I will kill you, do you understand? I don't know how you figured out how to use the phone, but you had better hang up and think about a place to hide for when I come down there.'

' Please, Wes! Please. Oh god, it's me, I don't know what happened or how I got here, but I don't understand and I don't think I have much time left! Wesley, I love you, I love you so much, and everything hurts me right, now, and I don't know what to do.'"

" Dear god," Wes whispered, shaking in his seat as he listened to Fred cry and listen to himself yell at her. And then:

" 'Oh, god, Wesley, help me!'" A horrifying, soul-wrenching scream, and then…nothing. The tape ended with a small click.

Wes found that he was standing, that he had grabbed a fourteenth century vase in his shaking hands, and that he had thrown it against the wall, shattering it into tiny fragments.

_Oh, god, Wesley, help me!_

Suddenly filled with utter and complete despair, Wesley collapsed back onto the couch, buried his face in his hands, and began to cry.

.

Fred descended down the stairs of the loft and onto the second floor of the house, exploring. She pushed open a door to find an impossibly large library inside, with books stretching from the floor to the high ceiling and ladders reaching up and balconies jutting out in several places. The room was a little like the library from one of Fred's favourite movies, _Beauty and the Beast_, which she had seen in high school in secret and had been terrified that someone would see her going into the theatre.

The second room Fred came to contained a lab almost identical to the one she had at work, only in here, the chemicals never ran out and nothing could ever hurt her. There was no Knox, no staff, no one there.

Although the third room was locked, the fourth and final door swung open easily, revealing a room shaped like the one she'd had at the Hyperion, except this one contained nothing but a few permanent markers sitting in the middle of the carpet.

Fred didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Shutting the door behind her, she picked up one of the markers and, walking to the wall opposite the door, wrote just three words, in the biggest letter she could draw:

I MISS HIM.

By the time Fred was done, her stomach was growling and there were tears on her face.

Outside, the clouds were getting darker, and thunder had begun to boom in the distance.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

.

Angel's face was grey as he listened to the answering machine tape. Wesley sat with the vampire in his office, eyes closed, biting his lip to keep from crying. It was shortly before five in the morning, and Wes had not slept at all; he hadn't even gone into his bedroom.

" Angel, it's so stupid to hope. We know that Illyria carved her way into the body, destroying her insides. But I can't help but wondering if maybe we were wrong."

The vampire reached over to press the rewind button on the machine. " I know, Wes. I'm hoping, too. If there's even the slightest chance that we can get Fred back, then I'll take it without thinking twice; I promise you."

The Englishman nodded. " Thanks, Angel. I know that—" he noticed Angel's odd look. "—what?"

" Wes…we need to analyze this tape," Angel said. " Run tests to make sure that it was Illyria. It sounds a lot like Fred."

Wes was resisting the urge to curl up into a tiny ball, the way he had seen Fred do whenever she was scared. He sighed. " I know. And that involves recording Illyria's impersonation, doesn't it?"

" I'm afraid so, Wes…do you want me to do it?"

Wesley shook his head, his gaze suddenly focused on something far away. " No, Angel. I have to do it. I'm the only one who can."

.

Fred was getting lonely.

She had just finished her meal, a taco made with the fixings that she had found in the fridge, and had put the dishes away. Now she sat at the kitchen table, staring at the hardwood and remembering her five years in Pylea. A lot had happened since then, and Fred had grown used to having people other than herself to talk to; now, stuck alone once more, she wasn't quite sure what to do.

The thought of getting back in her own body was something that was constantly on Fred's mind. She was a physicist, and a good one; she knew a lot about science and the scientific process of creating and testing hypotheses. The way she figured it, there must be something she could do to stop Illyria. The darkness was coming; Fred knew that the clouds descending on the little house were not supposed to be there. Illyria was getting slowly stronger, and Fred didn't have much time to work. She needed to find some way out of here, or at least some way to contact Wesley, so he could get her out.

Fred wandered back upstairs to the library, walking to the centre of the enormous room. She looked around her at the circular walls filled with books, and licked her lips, unsure of where to begin.

" Um, okay then," Fred's voice echoed in the room. " Where would I find the books on Illyria?"

As she spoke, Fred noticed that one section of books to the left and twenty feet above her had suddenly lit up, glowing faintly. Fred ran to the nearest rolling ladder, slid it into place, and climbed up to the section. When she got there, Fred noticed that one of the white marble balconies had moved so that its railings encompassed the shelves she needed. There was an armchair on the balcony, a well-stuffed one with red cashmere covering.

Fred swallowed her amazement and got to work.

Outside, unknown to the physicist, it began to rain.

.

Wes found Illyria that afternoon, deeply engrossed in the diamond that she was examining. Wesley stood behind her, unnoticed; he took several deep breaths, and then tapped Illyria's shoulder.

" May I speak with you for a moment?" he asked softly. Illyria regarded him for a second, then blinked, impatient.

" Speak, then."

Wes bit his lip as she went back to the diamond. " I meant in my office, Illyria. Now."

Illyria didn't turn away from the gem. " I shall come when it pleases me."

Wes fought the urge to yell in frustration, and then covered the diamond with his hand, forcing Illyria to look at him. " I have…I have changed my mind. I want you to become her. I'll teach you about love."

Illyria's head tilted slightly, considering, and then she turned and walked the short way into Wesley's office without a word, shutting the door behind her.

Wes closed his eyes and breathed, steeling himself. The hardest part was yet to come; he had to face her as the woman he had lost, and somehow get out with his sanity intact.

He entered the office to see her sitting in a chair, Fred, the woman he adored, but yet not her at all. Wes kept his face neutral as emotions raged inside him; he made himself walk towards Illyria and sit down in his chair behind the desk.

She looked up at him, impatient. " I'm here, Wesley. In her form. What are you waiting for?"

Wesley shut his eyes. " Talk like her."

" What?"

" I said," Wes forced out. " Talk like her. Rant. You've obviously acquired her mannerisms, her speech; I saw it when you fooled her parents. Talk like her."

Instantly, Illyria-Fred's face beamed in the unforgettable trademark smile of the physicist, and Wes pushed a button beneath the desk that turned the tape recorder on.

" Oh, you mean like the way my shell talked!" Illyria-Fred laughed. " Well, why didn't you just say so? I've missed you, Wes. I'm so glad you decided to let me come back."

Wes bit the inside of his cheek until it almost bled; it took all his willpower not to hit her. He looked up into Illyria-Fred's expectant eyes.

" Thank you," he said, standing from his desk chair and walking around to the front of the desk.

Illyria-Fred tilted her head. " Does it help you, Wesley, to have me speak like this?"

Wes nodded. " Yes. Yes it does."

She stood up, smoothing the flower-print skirt she wore. " Will you kiss me, then?" Illyria asked, dropping Fred's voice. Wes swallowed, and nodded again. Placing his hand on Illyria-Fred's cheek, he brought his lips to hers, softly, briefly, and then pulled away.

Illyria-Fred smiled. " That was so sweet," she said in Fred's voice. With slight hesitation, she placed her hands on Wesley's face, exactly as Fred had those few weeks ago when they had kissed for the first time.

Before he could stop himself, Wesley kissed her again, his hands encircling her waist. Illyria-Fred responded, curling her arms around Wes' neck, running her tongue across his lips, asking them to open. Wesley obeyed, willing himself to be back, kissing Fred on that night before all this had happened, to have Illyria just be a bad dream.

However, when he pulled away and opened his eyes for breath, it was Illyria-Fred standing there, looking traitorously like his soul mate but not her at all.

Illyria-Fred nodded, obviously content, and then looked up, transforming back into Illyria. She walked across to the door and pulled it open.

" It satisfies me, Wesley," she said.

" Good," Wes said, forcing down a gag. " Don't ever become her again."

Illyria sighed, nodded, and then went out into the hall.

Finally alone, Wesley wiped his mouth and turned off the recorder, pulling it out from beneath the edge of his desk. Gazing at the little black rectangle in his hand, Wes found himself wondering if anyone else he knew would have gone as far as he just had if they were in his position.

.

" Yes!"

Fred's yelp of victory many hours later echoed in the room as if a million people had shouted it back to her. The physicist slid down into the chair with the book, resting it on her lap. It was ancient, the pages musty and crackling; it was very heavy.

Fred flipped pages until she came to the correct chapter, and she began to read out loud to herself, trying to fill the silence.

" All right…the book says that 'to defeat Illyria, the warrior—that would be me, I guess—will have to fight her before her power completely invades the soul's palace of the person.' Well," Fred sighed. " I guess all that experience with whacking demons with sharp, pointy objects is paying off." She giggled nervously despite herself, before her eyes travelled to another part of the page.

" Wait a sec…it also says that, ' to be restored to his own body, the warrior has to unlock the Kei-An box, which holds him prisoner. The box can only be unlocked with the key, which changes with each person under Illyria's control, but usually involves a number derived from a Latin phrase.'" She frowned, biting her bottom lip. " Yeah. That makes a whole lick of a lot of sense. Geez, were these guys on heroin when they wrote this?"

Fred stood up, putting all the books back on the shelf and climbing cautiously down the ladder. Running into the Hyperion room, Fred scooped up one of the markers and uncapped it. She scribbled: _Kei-An box, number from Latin phrase unlocks; THE ONLY WAY TO GET ME OUT._

Satisfied, Fred went upstairs to the loft and crawled into bed, suddenly very cold.

The rain continued outside, pounding on the windows and walls, and also in Fred's dreams.

.

Wesley, Angel and Gunn were in the computer lab, watching two computers that were running identical sound analysis programs; one held Fred's tape, the other Illyria's.

Gunn leaned over to Illyria's computer and typed in a command; instantly, the tape began to play, and the three men watched the red line follow smoothly across the spikes of sound on the monitor.

There was no sound for several moments, then: 'Thank you…yes, yes it does.'

Angel's brow furrowed as he listened to the tape. " Something's wrong with it," he said. " I don't hear Illyria's voice, just Wesley's."

Wes put a hand on Gunn's shoulder. " Wait a moment."

" Yeah?" Gunn paused the recording.

" Take it back, and turn up the Demonic Frequency Line to its maximum."

Gunn did it, and then pressed play again.

'Oh, you mean like the way my shell talked! Well, why didn't you just say so? I've missed you, Wes. I'm so glad you decided to let me come back.'

Angel looked at Wesley. " Illyria's on a completely different frequency than you are, Wes," he said, amazed.

Wes nodded, starting to pace a little. " I thought that might happen. Often, the frequency of a demon's voice is different from those of humans. The only reason that they can still be heard by the human ear is that they're on a completely different frequency altogether; if they were on ours at the same proportions, we would never be able to hear them."

Gunn spun the swivel chair over to Fred's computer and pressed play, pushing the DFL up; all three men held their breath as the tape began to roll.

Silence. There was nothing. No demonic presence whatsoever.

Wes pressed his index fingers against his lips, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall.

" It was her, then," he whispered, relieved and horrified at the same time. " It was her. She was here."

Gunn bit his lip to suppress a smile. " And there's a chance for you to save her, English. You can do it. Fred is there, somewhere, inside Illyria, just waiting to come back."

Wesley sighed. " I never thought that I'd say this again, but I hope so. Dear god, I hope so."

.

That night, after everyone had gone back to sleep, Wesley sat in the lab, going over Fred's tape on the computer again and again, trying to burn the words out of existence.

Closing his eyes to rest them, Wes turned the Demon Frequency Line up as high as it would go and ran the tape, letting the silence fill his heart like ice.

And then, the sudden sound from the tape came, nearly giving him a heart attack.

_What the hell was that?_ Wes thought, rewinding the tape a little and pressing play again. This time, he heard the voice very clearly, whispering.

' Reperire præter amare… reperire præter amare…'

Wesley sat back, puzzled. _Latin? It sounds like Latin. Strange._ Reaching forward, he rewound again, but turned the DFL down to fifty percent.

This time, he was able to hear, faintly, Fred's voice.

' Oh god, Wesley, help me!' The scream that still chilled his blood, and then there was static, out of which Wesley heard the words. 'Reperire præter amare.'

He reached for a pen and paper and jotted down the phrase; his source book was up in the locked office, and Wes was exhausted.

_It's Illyria; that much I know,_ he thought to himself, rubbing his eyes._ She's speaking Latin on the tape, at the exact time that, I believe, Fred disappeared again. It must be related, somehow._

Reaching over, Wes took the recording out of the computer and shut it off, covering a yawn. Tucking the little cassette into his pocket, he went up to his room.

.

" What the bloody hell?"

Wes turned on the bedroom light to see handwriting all over the walls, done in black permanent marker. It was Fred's handwriting.

Wesley dropped his coat and went to the wall, tracing his fingers over the massive letters: I MISS HIM.

And then, in smaller print on another wall: _Kei-An box, number from Latin phrase unlocks; THE ONLY WAY TO GET ME OUT._

Wesley's brow furrowed as his palms pressed into the wall. " Fred? Fred, where are you?"

There was no answer. Wes hadn't really expected one.

Wes reached into his desk and withdrew a marker of his own. As if in a trance, Wes wrote her name on the wall, followed by a question mark, asking silently if she was there, just in case she hadn't heard him: _Fred?_

Wes looked at the bed, then at the writing again. After a moment, he took one of the pillows, gathered his coat, and went to sleep on the couch. For some reason, he just didn't want to disturb the room.

........

Chapter three is on the way. Thank you all for your generous reviews.


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Lara, who was so kind as to put my stories up on her website Check it out at http:bluemoon.darling-moon.com. Also, if everyone includes their email addresses in their reviews, I'll email you when I update from now on.

Since this chapter is being posted on Wednesday night, before the last episode of Angel, I want to say that if they kill off Wesley, I'll never watch the WB again, but will continue to use both he and Fred in my fics. So don't abandon me if that happens, all right?

.

Chapter Three

In her dream, Fred was sitting at a window seat with a blanket draped over her folded legs, watching the pouring rain. It had never rained like this in Texas; this was a torrential flood. The entire room was bathed in the wavy half-light from the water on the window, passing shadows over everything.

" Wesley," she murmured, resting her head against the glass.

" Yes, love?" he asked, putting his book down.

Fred couldn't help but smile at him, and she reached her hand out, indicating that he come to her. " Do you think the rain'll ever end?" she asked softly. Her fingertips pressed against the glass. " Seems like it's never going to be sunny again."

Wesley sighed, coming over the squeezing next to Fred in the window seat, wrapping his arms around her. " It will," he replied, resting his chin in her hair. " It'll get worse before it gets better, but I promise you, everything will be all right in the end."

Fred closed her eyes and leaned back against his chest. " Okay," she whispered. " I trust you."

But then the dream turned into a nightmare too terrible to even remember, and Fred awoke with dread creeping into her blood, freezing her heart.

No, wait. She was already frozen.

Fred got up, trembling with cold. Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, Fred went to the window and looked out into a world of white.

The snow was big, almost like hail, and heavy, falling from clouds that were unnaturally dark. Fred had only seen snow a few times over her life; she had always been enchanted by its rare beauty.

However, this snow was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be there.

Fred went downstairs, still holding the blanket around her shoulders, and went straight to the lab. She needed to find something to ward off Illyria.

For the first time in her life, she wasn't very hungry.

.

Wesley arrived at his office that morning with only one thing on his mind: the Latin phrase. Dropping his coat on the chair and putting down his cup of coffee, Wes didn't even give Illyria a second look as he pulled out his source book, brought the spine close to his lips, and said, " Latin dictionary."

Illyria sat down, folding her arms across her chest as Wes opened the book and began to flip pages. Impatient, she finally spoke.

" Wesley."

The Englishman looked up and jumped, nearly knocking his chair over. " Oh, my god!" he exclaimed, slamming the source book shut. " Don't you ever knock?"

Illyria met his eyes, always and ever defiant. " I see no reason to. The door was open."

Wes sighed, flopping back down into his chair. " Well, Illyria, could you please leave? I have a lot of work to do and—you're not leaving until it suits you, are you?"

Illyria unfolded her arms. " You seem to have acquired the ability to read minds overnight," she said. " This is interesting; I wonder if you stole it from me when you depleted my powers. Or perhaps you're trying to unlock them."

Wes stopped, staring at her, trying to discern whether or not she was being sarcastic. Illyria was staring back at him, dominant, never backing down, and Wes felt his heart freeze in fear. _Does she know something?_

It was Spike who broke the uncomfortable silence; he sauntered into the office, grinning mischievously, oblivious to the tension in the room.

" Blue!" he exclaimed. " I've been lookin for you. I am _incredibly_ bored; want to go find something to hit with me?"

Illyria nodded, her gaze never leaving Wesley's own. " I would. I grow tired of this room."

As the two left, Wes opened the source book with a sigh. That had been far too close for comfort. He had a strong feeling that if Illyria didn't know something already, she would figure it out eventually, and she wouldn't be very happy. Having an angry Old One—even an Old One with weakened powers—on his hands was the last thing that Wes wanted to deal with.

After a moment of thought, Wes gathered his papers, the source book, and his coffee, and headed up to his bedroom, the one place where he really wouldn't be disturbed. He locked the door behind him.

.

Fred carefully poured acid into a test tube, turning down the burner a little. She was experimenting, not really sure what she was looking for yet, and wishing that she had someone—anyone—to talk to.

" Well," she said softly to the walls, giggling slightly. " Not everyone. Not Knox."

Fred sighed, watching the heated mixture foam up and spill over the sides of the test tube, dripping onto the counter but leaving no mark. The burner was doused as well, but it kept aflame, unaffected. Fred knew she was going to miss this lab if she ever got out of here.

" When," she corrected herself. " _When_ I get out of here. When."

As Fred took a step away from the counter, something small exploded in her brain, rupturing with the horrible feeling of finality. Fred felt her eyes cloud over even as they were open, and she fell to the ground, dropping the acid. She remembered the sound of breaking glass as monumentally loud, echoing in her ears and swamping her in pain.

She was shaking again, like she was being electrocuted, her limbs flailing on their own whim.

Fred curled up on the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible. She knew she had blacked out for good when the floor beneath her seemed to fall away, and she plunged.

.

Wesley's eyes widened as he finished jotting down the translation to the Latin phrase.

" My god," he whispered, looking around at the writing on his wall, then back to the paper. " It…this makes no sense. Why would Illyria choose this phrase?"

Scribbled on the paper were these words:

Reperire præter amare – Find Past Love

Wes closed the source book and ordered it to find everything on the Kei-An Box. Sitting on the bed, surrounded by the muted silence, Wesley began to read, unaware that his day was about to go straight to hell—literally.

.

" Illyria?" Spike turned around to see the blue demon frozen in the hall. " Why the hell did you stop? The training room's around the corner!"

Illyria had begun to tremble slightly, just a little, and she looked at Spike with blue eyes that were beginning to cloud over.

" Vampire," she whispered, raising her hand, trying to reach him. " I know not what happens to me."

Spike jumped forward and caught Illyria as she fell, going limp in his arms. As he watched, Illyria's complexion began to change. Her blue hair softened to a natural brown, and her face changed a little, shifting to the features of another. Even the clothes changed, forming into jeans, a T-short and a lab coat overtop.

Spike could hardly believe his eyes. He gently shook Fred, trying to wake her, as workers filed around him in the hallway, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was holding the body of their former co-worker—the body that was living, breathing, warm, and undeniably her.

" Oh, bugger, where is Wes when you need him most?" he said to himself. Raising his head, Spike took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his lungs. " Someone give me their bloody phone!"

Instantly, a cell phone was handed to him, and Spike, silently thanking the obedience of the temps, dialled Wesley's office. Resting Fred against his chest, he waited for the pickup that never came.

Spike hung up and lapsed into a stream of muttered curses. Reaching up, he grabbed the sleeve of an assistant in Sales.

" Get Angel here! NOW!"

As the young man ran to obey him, Spike turned back to Fred's lifeless body. " Come on, pet, wake up, why don't you? We can go and see Wesley, have a nice little reunion…come on…"

Fred shifted a little, and opened her eyes. She was crying.

" Spike…"

The blond vampire nodded, grinning. " Hi, pet. How are you?" he helped her stand, but Fred couldn't support her own weight. She leaned on him.

" Spike, it hurts," Fred whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. " Oh, god, it hurts…"

At that moment, Angel came running in, shocked. He took one look at Fred's sickened form and pointed down the hall. " Get her in my office, Spike. Now."

Spike chose not to come back with a snippy remark; instead, he obeyed the vampire, picking up Fred and carrying her to the couch in Angel's office. Once there, Fred drifted into unconsciousness again.

Spike turned to Angel. " Where are you going, mate?"

" To get Wes," Angel replied.

The blond vampire shook his head. " He didn't answer when I called his office, Angel. I think he may have disappeared into thin air."

Angel opened the door. " I'll find him, all right? Watch over Fred, make sure that she keeps breathing."

He was gone in the next instant.

Spike turned to see Fred open her eyes again, drawing in silent, slow breaths. Spike knelt by the edge of the couch.

" Hey, pet. How are you?"

" Spike, I need to…talk…to…" her words were forced, and she was still obviously in great pain.

" Percy's coming," Spike said. Fred shook her head.

" Never mind…no time," she clutched at Spike's hand. " Tell him…he needs to unlock the…Kei-An box…okay? And that he's running out…of time." She gasped and jerked as pain shot through her.

Spike pressed Fred's cold, trembling hand against his lips. " No," he replied. " You're going to tell him, Fred. You're not leaving again. You just have to hold on until he gets here."

Fred smiled sadly. " My dear…wonderful Spike," she murmured, her tears soaking the leather couch. " I love him. Tell him that…love you, too...all…of…you."

She slipped back into the dark.

.

When Wesley arrived moments later, out of breath from running down from his bedroom, he found Illyria lying on the couch, unconscious, and Spike sitting beside her body, holding back tears.

The blond vampire could not look him in the eye.

.

Fred awoke on the floor of the lab in her soul's house, sprawled on her stomach with her nose pressed against the tile. Her body still hurt, but not as bad now; the stinging, sharp pain that had consumed her every moment was now a throbbing, steady with her pulse beat.

_It's getting worse._

The last time that Fred had awoken in her own body, it had hurt, but not like this. Fred had hardly recognized Spike's face, and tears had slid unbidden from her eyes, which were too weak to hold them. Fred knew that the agony had nearly torn her apart.

However, now it was her heart that hurt the most.

Rolling onto her side and cautiously curling up into a ball, Fred sobbed out loud, knowing that there was nobody to hear or comfort her outside the room. She cried until the pain had subsided a little, and she was able to stand up and drag herself to the Hyperion room.

Fred sat in the corner, her arm wrapped around her knees, and she tried to figure out what to do next. She had run out of hope.

Grabbing a marker, Fred wrote Wes' name over and over again, trying desperately to will him into existence.

She knew, though, that she was alone.

.

Wes somehow managed to make it up to his room, walking blindly, unable to recognize or acknowledge anyone. Shutting the bedroom door behind him, Wesley let his legs crumple and he slid to the floor, tears welling up in his eyes. Suddenly all his research seemed for nothing.

She had been here. Fred, his beautiful Winifred, had been here. She had been in unimaginable pain, and, for the second time, Wes hadn't been there to comfort her. The extent of her suffering had been so horrific that it had brought Spike to tears.

Wesley angrily looked up, imagining God—or whatever lunatic controlled all this—to be living on his ceiling. _Hasn't she suffered enough?_

It was then that he noticed the words being written on the wall.

_Wes Wes Wes Wes Wes Wes Wes_

Fred's handwriting scrawling itself across his bedroom wall.

Wesley picked up the marker from his desk and approached the wall. He wrote: _Fred. I'm here._

The repetition of his name stopped abruptly. Then, more words appeared beside his own.

_Where are you?_

Wesley wrote back instantly. _In my bedroom. Where are you?_

A pause, a long pause during which Wes did not breathe. And then:

_I am lost._

_._

Fred had screamed when Wesley's script first appeared on her wall. She nearly dropped the marker, but managed to write back: _Where are you?_

Within seconds, his response. _In my bedroom. Where are you?_****

Fred stopped. She couldn't move. How could she possibly explain where she was? In the Hyperion? In her soul's house? She had no strength left to explain. Leaning her forehead against the wall, Fred wrote each word of her response like it was a separate sentence: _I am lost._

When he didn't write anything back, Fred rushed to scribble. _Don't be worried, Wes. I'm okay, I promise. I want to get out of here. I want to see you again. Please don't be scared, Wes. I'll be scared for you, I have nothing to be afraid of, just don't be worried and don't be scared. Okay?_

_Okay._

Fred knew he was lying, but let it slide. It felt so good to be in contact again.

Wes wrote more: _I miss you, Fred._

Fred felt the tears slide down her cheeks, and she let the marker drop to the floor, wiping away the tears with her fingers. Then: _Don't cry. Please don't cry._

She picked up the marker. _How did you know?_

_Please, Fred. I know these things. It's all right; I'm here, I never left you. I never will. I'm here._

And then, There was a drawing beside the writing, the outline of a left hand. She understood in an instant.

Through her tears, Fred pressed her right hand against the outline, pressed as hard as she could against the hard plaster wall. And, somehow, inexplicably, surreally, although it may have been her imagination, she could feel the smallest bit of warmth coming from the other side.


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: (written on Wednesday night) They killed Wesley. I cried for about an hour. I vowed never to watch the WB again…then I began to write chapter four. I apologize for the long wait; I had to get all my thoughts in order for this one, and decide how much longer I wanted this story to be.

Thank you all so much for your reviews. It's always inspiring to read them, and they really keep me from getting lazy and not continuing the story. So, thank you.

Chapter Four

Illyria was pacing, restless, for once unsure. She could feel Fred inside her, festering in her heart, living. It made Illyria sick with disgust, to have a human soul still within the shell, keeping the rest of the organs alive, weakening her even more. The heartbeat of another pounded in her chest.

When she had originally taken this body, Illyria had had Fred's soul under complete comatose control. Fred had been as good as completely destroyed…until the depletion of Illyria's powers. Now, Illyria could only imprison Fred, not control her.

The Kei-An Lock was strong; Illyria had seen to that when she had set it. Now, the mental control she had over it was weakening, and occasionally it popped, as it had yesterday afternoon. Illyria did not feel the pain that accompanied the lock's release as much more than a pinprick, but she knew that Fred was in complete agony.

Although she would never, ever admit it to anyone without killing them a moment later, Illyria was worried about how strong Fred was growing, trapped inside that soul of hers. The girl had no idea of what she could do if she wanted to.

Something would have to be done about that little problem.

Looking across the hall, Illyria saw Wesley sitting in his office, working intently. Illyria had seen the ink stains on his hands, and had noticed a new bounce in his step as he left his bedroom that morning.

No. He would not beat her. Wesley had no idea what he was up against.

Something would definitely have to be done, and soon.

Today.

Right now, in fact.

.

" Knock, knock, English."

Wes looked up to see Gunn standing in the doorway with a half-smile and two cardboard coffee cups. He beckoned his friend inside.

" Gunn, nice to see you," Wes said, accepting the cup that Gunn held out to him. Taking a sip, he sighed gratefully as the hot tea flowed down his throat, spreading warmth to the tips of his fingers. " Charles, you're a lifesaver."

Gunn grinned. " I won't comment on the events of the recent past, but yes, I am," he replied. He noticed the utter disarray of Wesley's desk and his eyebrows shot up a few inches. " Been having fun, haven't we?"

Wes put down the tea and sighed. " I can't for the life of me figure this out," he said, pushing one of the papers towards Gunn. " I need to find a number from this phrase."

Gunn read. "Reperire præter amare…I assume this isn't a term for parental custody."

Wes shook his head. " Nope."

" And you're going to explain it to me…now?"

Wes nodded. " The phrase is Latin, albeit extremely roughly translated Latin. It's closer in structure to the demonic language of Calla, but it has to be Latin, since Calla has no 'R' sound. In Latin, this term means 'Find past love'.

Gunn sat back. " Ah. And the number…"

Wes began to stack his mountain of papers. " I believe that the phrase is one part of a key to a box that imprisons someone's soul."

Gunn caught on immediately. " Fred. She's still in Illyria. That's how she came back."

" Yes, I believe so," Wes replied. " The box itself is metaphysical. Opening it involves ripping open the walls of this world using the key, and somehow destroying the mental lock in Illyria's mind. It's the only way to get Fred back into her own body."

" But what about her internal organs?" Gunn asked, shifting slightly. " They were liquefied when Illyria invaded Fred's body. All that's left is a shell, right?"

Wes shook his head. " I believe that all the internal organs are still in Fred's body; the soul keeps them running. When Illyria originally took over Fred, she controlled Fred's soul completely; when she was weakened, the hold weakened. The only thing Illyria could do, unless she wanted to kill herself, was to imprison Fred's living soul within itself. Thus, Fred's internal organs were recreated."

Gunn whistled, impressed. " So you have to find this number…but it could be anything. How will you know if it's the right one?"

A shrug. " I'll know."

" Well, I'll help if I can; I'm not much good with puzzles, but Lorne might be willing to lend a hand," Gunn said, and accepted the papers that Wesley held out to him. " We'll give it a go, and if we find anything, I'll tell you."

" Thanks," Wesley tried to smile.

" Sure. It's for a good cause, right?" Gunn got up and began to leave; he stopped at the door and looked back. " Hey, Wes."

" Yes, Charles?"

Gunn bit his lip. " Listen, I know you liked her before I did. Hell, I think you loved her far before me. I…I wanted to tell you, today, that…she never really loved me. Not in the way that she loved you. Deep down in her heart, I think it was always you."

Wes sighed as Gunn left the office. Pulling a velvet box from his desk drawer, Wes opened it and took out the gold locket, absently entwining the chain in his fingers. He'd found the necklace in an antique shop weeks before, right after he and Fred had gotten together. It was from the seventeenth-century, slightly tarnished, but gorgeously engraved; the inside of the heart-shaped locket was carved with the English, French and Latin words for Love.

It would have looked absolutely gorgeous on her, resting at the hollow of her throat, enhancing her eyes. The perfect gift for the most beautiful woman in the world.

With another sigh, Wes replaced the locket and put the box away. His eyes drifted to his calendar and the day's circled date. Today's date.

" Happy birthday, Fred," he whispered, and got back to work.

.

Fred awoke abruptly, suddenly very alert. She was curled up on her bed, fully dressed, still half asleep and shivering with cold, but she forced herself to stand up and creep to the hallway.

There. In the library. Someone was there.

Fred did her best to force down the internal alarms that were ringing in her rapidly beating heart, drenching her blood in adrenaline and making her feel dizzy. This was no time to faint, nor was it a time to run. She figured that, although she was small, she was strong—could almost beat Charles at arm wrestling—and she was in her own soul, which must give her a small advantage. She would face the intruder, because she had nowhere to run to.

Opening the door to the library, Fred walked silently into the enormous room to see someone standing with their back to her, dressed in skintight leather, with hair that was slightly tinted blue.

Of course it was her. Who else could possibly come here?

" Illyria," Fred whispered.

.

" Charles Gunn?"

Gunn looked up to see the werewolf girl, Nina, standing in the doorway of the empty conference room with a slightly shy smile on her face. He grinned back warmly, beckoning her inside.

" Hi, Nina. How's it going?"

She shrugged. " Not too bad. I was looking for Angel; have you seen him?"

Gunn shook his head. " Nope, sorry; I haven't been out all afternoon. I've been working on something for a friend of mine, and I can't seem to figure it out."

Nina's brow furrowed, and she leaned over him to read the paper. " What do you have to do?"

Gunn sighed. " I have to find a number within this Latin phrase; it's driving me nuts. I have no other clues than that."

Nina sat down beside him, staring at the paper, head tilted a little to the right. After a moment she looked at Gunn. " What about an anagram?"

" Come again?"

She rolled her eyes. " You know…replacing the letters with numbers? A is one, B is two, et cetera?"

Gunn was impressed. " Could be, Nina. Thanks."

She grinned. " Anytime, Charles."

" Oh, by the way, I think that Angel is in his office, but Spike's there, too. You know, the other vampire."

Nina considered for a moment. " You think I should come back later?"

Gunn stole a glance out the open door towards Angel's office. " Judging by the silence, I'd say that they're either locked in battle, or they're about to be. Coming back later is probably a very good idea."

" Right. Well, then," she waved at him. " I'll see you later. And good luck with the puzzle, all right?"

Gunn nodded. " Yeah. Thanks again."

As soon as Nina had left, Gunn called Wesley's office and left a message on the voicemail.

" Wes, about the phrase…I think you might wanna try this…"

.

Spike sat in Angel's office, staring at the blinds that covered the windows. The blond vampire sighed.

" Seems a waste of wall space, to have windows but not be able to open the stupid things," he said, resting his chin in his hand. " I have no idea why you took this office, Peaches."

Angel, sitting in his own chair, sighed. " Spike, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Spike shook his head, feigning ignorance. " Who said I want to talk about it? What's there to talk about? Nothing really to say today, nope."

Angel folded his arms. " Anytime you're ready, Spike."

" Oh, will you bugger off, Angel? I don't want to talk about anything!"

Angel didn't reply, but stared at Spike for a long time. Finally, the blond vampire threw up his hands.

" Oh, fine! What do you want me to say? That I miss her? That she came back and didn't stay? That I'm thinking of killing Illyria to see if it'll bring her back permanently? Is that what you want me to say?"

Angel shrugged. " If it helps."

Spike's hands clenched into fists. " Well, it bloody well doesn't help, Angel."

" Better than keeping it all inside, though."

Spike pointed accusingly at Angel. " That's where you're wrong, mate. Keeping it all inside means that you don't come pressing me for emotional breakthroughs because you're incapable of having one yourself! Well, mister Big Shot, I am not your emotional whore, d'you understand? Don't come to me every time you want to pleasure yourself with one of my—"

Angel cleared his throat loudly, and Spike turned around to see Wesley standing in the doorway, looking tired but very disturbed.

" Er, sorry…I didn't realize that you were having a private conversation," he said softly, reaching for the door. " I'll come back at a better time."

Spike scowled at both men. " Don't bother, I was just leaving," he muttered, stomping past Wesley and out the door.

Angel grinned. " Thanks, Wes. How can I help you?"

Wes reached over and dropped a file folder on the desk blotter. " I really can't stay, but I think you should read it. It's absolutely everything I have so far on Fred's return, and the possibility that we can save her. I'm going back up to my room to get some books, and then I'll be in my office if you have any questions."

Angel pulled the file closer and opened it, extremely impressed. " Wes, you know that if there's anything I can do—"

" —actually, there is something," Wes interrupted. " I hope you like puzzles, Angel."

" Puzzles, huh?"

Wes sighed. " Yes. Puzzles. And this one must be solved. For her sake."

Angel nodded, understanding, and began to read as Wes left.

.

Fred swallowed her fear and took a step forward into the giant room, towards the demon who had taken over her body. " Illyria. Why are you here?"

Her look-alike turned around, meeting Fred's eyes. " I want to be here, Winifred Burkle," she replied, the authority in her voice unmistakable. " If it is my wish, I shall be here."

" I'm guessing you're not stopping by for a cup of tea and a gossip."

Illyria's eyes narrowed. " Was that supposed to be humour?"

Fred forced herself to keep the gaze, not to look away. " I suppose not," she said, her voice only slightly shaky. " But I have to assume that you're not here on friendly terms. After all, we're both stuck, vying for the same body, right?"

Illyria folded her arms. " I came her to tell you to stop fighting," she said. " You cannot be so stupid as to not notice my power's growth. You may as well give up right now."

Fred bit the inside of her cheek to suppress an absurd smile. " Isn't that getting a bit too confident, Illyria? I mean, you never know."

Anger flashed in the dark blue eyes. " Do not challenge me," Illyria replied icily, taking a step towards Fred, trying to scare her. " You know nothing, Winifred Burkle. You cannot fight me, and Wesley cannot fight for you. All is lost for you."

Fred shook her head. " You're wrong, Illyria, he's working hard, he's going to get me out and kill you. You can't stop him, he knows it's me in here and Wesley is going to get me out. You don't have the power to stop h—"

" SPEAK NO LONGER!" Illyria yelled, pushing her hands outward, forcing blue fire from them, the look in her eyes murderous. Fred was blown backward by the blast; her head hit the marble floor, and the stars dancing in front of her eyes was the last thing she remembered.

.

Fred awoke later, unsure of how much time had passed. Her head hurt like hell, but nothing seemed to be broken, and she was able to stand.

Fred knew she had to tell Wes about Illyria. What if she attacked him?

Rushing to the end of the hall, Fred pulled open the door to the Hyperion room and gasped in horror.

" Oh, god…"

The door opened into inky black nothingness, stretching out into forever. The Hyperion room was gone. Illyria had ripped it away, destroyed the only contact Fred had with Wesley.

Fred shut the door and slumped against it, sliding to the floor. After a moment, she buried her face into her clenched fists and screamed out her despair into the house, where the sound echoed, faded, and was swallowed up forever.

.

Wesley opened the door to his bedroom to find Illyria standing in the middle of the floor, her entire body tensed. Her skin was slightly bluer than usual, and her hands were clenched into tight fists. Eyes closed. Her body was using power that seemed to vanish into thin air. The air was hot.

" Illyria? What are you doing here?"

She eyes opened, slowly, as if it caused her great pain. With effort, she unclenched her hands, and that was when Wesley noticed the writing on his walls fading away, bleeding and dwindling into nothingness.

His gaze swung back to her trembling form, and Wesley felt abject dread rising in his blood. There was only one reason why Illyria would have used this much power. Only one reason why the writing on the walls was gone.

But she couldn't have possibly. Illyria no longer had that kind of power; this must have nearly killed her.

" You didn't," he whispered, unbelieving.

Illyria grinned at him, a smile full of blood. " I did, Wesley," she replied, and blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth. " The room is gone. Fred will die, and you will not save her. You cannot…beat…me."

She collapsed forward onto the ground, and the temperature immediately dropped back to normal.

Wesley knelt down and turned Illyria over. She was breathing, but only barely. Comatose. Maybe even brain dead.

He sat down and drew his knees in close to his body, suddenly cold. Overcome with hopelessness, Wes buried his face in his hands and tried to imagine the darkness enveloping him, pulling the shade down on this cruel reality where hope was ripped away and happiness never lasted.

_Happy birthday, Fred. _


	5. Chapter Five

A/N: I apologize for being so mean in the last chapter. I swear that I make up for it in this one. The Fluff Queen hath not lost her touch!

.

Chapter Five

Fred stayed curled up on the floor for a long time, never sleeping, unsure of the time. She didn't really care.

She began sobbing again at the thought of the handprint on the wall, her one hope, irrevocably lost. And, through the sobs, Fred's skin began to heat in anger at Illyria's cruelty, and her mind began forming a plan of revenge.

_Oh, damn it, who am I kidding?_ Fred chided herself. _I'm sitting here crying at the injustice of it all, and getting nowhere. Illyria is extremely strong, even if her little trick nearly killed her. She was right; I have absolutely no idea what I'm up against._

With a sigh, Fred forced herself into a standing position and somehow made it upstairs and collapsed into bed, where she buried her face in the ice-cold pillows and tried to think through her tears.

And then she heard the voice, soothing and hauntingly familiar.

" Oh, sweetheart, don't cry so."

Fred lifted her face from the linen and turned to face the person. She stared into the familiar eyes. " You're not real, are you?" she murmured, knowing the answer.

A sad shake of the head. " No, baby, I'm not; I'm just here cause you need me."

Fred rose from the tangled sheets to a standing position. " Oh. Right."

The arms outstretched, familiar. " Come here, darlin'. You need a hug."

Fred obeyed, allowing the sweet-smelling embrace to envelope her. She began to cry again.

" Oh, momma," she whispered into Trish Burkle's shoulder. " I miss him so much."

.

Wesley had a memory buried in the back of his mind, a memory that, like a fragile but beloved blanket, he used only occasionally, in moments when he needed peace. It was completely ridiculous, this memory, a silly flash to when he was ten years old and had been sitting in a tree in his backyard, reading, on a warm July afternoon. Wesley had looked up through the branches and had seen the flawless blue sky, so unbelievably big. It had occurred to him then, at ten years old, that the universe was so big, and he so small, that there would one day be places where his father couldn't reach him.

A pleasant thought, to be sure, the fantasies of a child who had not yet seen all the horrors of the world.

Wes had retreated into that memory now, sitting near the infirmary with his eyes closed, waiting for Medical to finish testing Illyria.

The ten-year-old Wesley Wyndham-Price inside him waited in dread for his father's voice to call him back inside the house.

Boy and man, the innocent and the killer, the hopeful and the hopeless, they waited for the change together.

_ " Wesley? Damn it, boy, where are you? Get in the bloody house! Now!"_

" Mr. Wyndham-Price? Uh, sir…"

Wesley opened his eyes; the doctors were standing there, blindingly white in their lab coats, staring at him.

" Yes?"

The head of Medical spoke up. " Sir, we've confirmed that Illyria has slipped into a comatose state due to her loss of power; we're not sure how long she will stay asleep, or if she'll even wake up. At this point, anything is possible."

Wesley blinked, and then nodded. " Er, yes, thank you. Is she under observation?"

" Yes, Mr. Wyndham-Price. Twenty-four hour surveillance of two people per six-hour shift; we never let her out of our sight."

_See, dad?_ Wes thought sarcastically, still aware of the ten-year-old memory inside his heart. _I work in a Big Office, now. People call me 'Mr. Wyndham-Price' like they're scared of me. Look at me._

He sighed. " Okay. Call me, Gunn or Angel if anything happens, all right?"

" Yes, sir."

Wesley was halfway down the blank white hall, heading back towards the offices, when he stopped, pressing his hand against his chest, trying to assure himself that his heart was still there. It was beating still, but there was nothing left to feel. Wes felt the hole, the void inside himself where hope had once lain, and although it wasn't physical, Wesley felt it as painfully as if his heart had actually been ripped from his chest.

.

" Momma, I have to see him. I have to talk to him."

Fred and Trish sat in the kitchen, each with a mug of tea. Fred had showered and changed into a blouse and skirt, her curls falling around her shoulders; the dark circles under her eyes were still there, but not as intense as they had been. She felt miles better, and having someone to talk to—especially her mother—was heavenly.

Trish shook her head. " It's not a good idea, Fred. I shouldn't have even mentioned it. It could kill you."

Fred was adamant. " If it does, at least he'll know I love him. At least I'll die loving him, and not here, freezing cold," she took Trish's hand, the tea long forgotten. " I know you can do this; you're an invention of this place, and you know how it works."

A sigh, a reluctant nod. " I do, baby, but this is very risky. You'd be feeding Illyria power if you did it. You'd be draining your own life force to enter Wesley's soul."

" I know, but I can regain it. I'm stuck here, remember? I can train, I can do whatever I need to do to be stronger than before. I'm willing to accept the consequences."

Trish sighed again. " Even if it means possibly furthering the disintegration of this place?"

Fred nodded without a moment's hesitation. " Even if it means that," she replied, squeezing Trish's hand. " Listen, momma, I don't plan on staying for long, maybe five minutes, at the most."

Trish stood up, gathering the two cold cups of tea, turning away. " Fred, the instant that you leave this place, you will be feeding Illyria power, do you understand? After thirty seconds, your life force will begin to decline. You will have exactly two minutes until your soul's house will begin to self-destruct under the pressure."

Fred stood too. " Two minutes it is, then."

Trish set the mugs in the sink and turned back to her daughter. " Winifred Burkle, you have no idea what you are asking me to do."

Fred smiled sadly. " Yes, I do, momma. I'm asking you to help me to give Wesley hope again. He needs it, and I need him to have it. I need to tell him I love him. I need him to know that all is not lost, okay?" A pause. " I need to know that all is not lost."

After a long moment, Trish Burkle nodded, and placed both hands on her daughter's shoulders. " Okay, Fred. Close your eyes…focus on calling to him…and don't be scared, all right?"

_Don't be scared, Wes…I'll be scared for you._

Remembering her promise to Wesley, Fred said nothing.

.

Wesley suppressed a yawn as he walked into the conference room where Gunn, Angel, Spike and Lorne were working. It was only mid-evening, but time had changed for Wes; everything that occurred was on its own plane of space, separate from the actual world. Nothing seemed real; he was moving through events as though they were a dream, slurred and slow and a little thicker than normal life should be. He was exhausted.

The others were all spinning something that clicked softly, and the sound jolted Wes away from his thoughts as he sat down. His brow furrowed.

" What the hell are you doing?"

Gunn held up a small circle of gold with a half-grin. " Don't you recognize these, English?"

Wesley shook his head, taking the small pin from his friend and turning it over in his hands. " I've never seen these in my entire life."

Angel and Spike's respective jaws dropped at about the same time.

" Were you born in a bloody hole?" Spike spat out, shocked.

" You've never seen a decoder pin, Wes?" Angel asked, ignoring the other vampire.

" …should I have?"

Spike slammed his pin down on the wood table and stood up. " Well, Angel, I give up. If these kids today don't know about _decoder pins_, for the Lady's sake, then we've lost the mission."

Angel, sitting next to him, put his hand on Spike's forearm and forced the blond vampire back into his seat. " That mission, Spike, was done a long time ago. This one is far more important; sit your un-dead butt back down, and stay that way."

Wes rubbed at his eyes. " I'm not even going to ask," he said, handing Gunn's decoder pin back and picking up the one that sat on the table in front of him. " So what do these things do?"

Gunn twisted his pin so that it clicked rapidly, reminding Wesley remotely of a machine gun. " They were used in the fifties, mainly," he said. " Kids had 'em, and the radio shows would give out clues, and you'd figure it out. Like, they'd say, 'Set your pins to V-22,' and then rattle off a bunch of numbers that were a code, and you figured out what it said."

" We figured that, since the Latin phrase is wired that way, we might as well try it," Lorne said. " Gunn and I were out all afternoon trying to find them; we must have gone to twenty different antique shops to get these five pins."

Wes sighed, suppressing another yawn, and gave his pin a half-hearted twist. He really wanted to go to bed. " So," he said, looking at his friends. " What have you found so far?"

Dead silence.

" Anyone?"

Gunn, Spike and Lorne mumbled and looked away; only Angel met Wesley's eyes.

" We haven't found anything yet, Wes," he said.

" Yes, it's a bit difficult when you have no clues and no way to test if any of the infinite amount of numbers in this world will work," Spike snapped, folding his arms across his chest.

Gunn looked as though he wanted to murder the vampire, but Wes nodded and stood up, leaving his pin on the table.

" All right, then, Spike; if that is how you all feel, I will go and do more research," he said, exhausted and irritable. " Or, perhaps, you can all go home, have dinner, sleep, and you can leave me to do it. I can do it all; I really don't need any of you, if this is a waste of your time."

With that, Wes left the room without looking back. He knew his actions were irrational, but right then he was too tired and drained to care.

He made it fifty feet before he blacked out and collapsed silently in the hall.

.

" Good lord…this can't be his soul's house, can it? I mean, he couldn't just be happy with this. It's so…plain."

He opened his eyes to a world of pure white, almost like the White Room but not nearly as foreboding. It was strange but familiar, almost as if he had known it his whole life.

Someone had spoken. Wes turned to look, but he knew who was standing there before he moved.

" Fred."

Her eyes met his, like she was seeing him there for the first time—which she probably was—and her hands flew to cover her mouth in shock. She laughed in delight, the sound so much like bells in his ear.

Wesley could hardly believe she was standing there. " Fred," he repeated in a whisper, adoring the sound of the name. " Fred."

" Just tell me one thing—why white? This is your soul's house, after all. Shouldn't it be paradise?"

Wes shrugged. He knew the answer to that one. " Because you're my paradise," he replied simply. " Without you, there's nothing for me."

Fred came to him; her smile was radiant. Wes reached out and touched her cheek softly, holding her other hand tightly. She was warm.

" Fred, how—"

" I don't have time," she murmured. " Just kiss me."

Wesley obeyed without hesitation, pressing his lips to hers as Fred's hands curled around his neck. She was smiling under his kiss, and Wes felt her tears on his face; his hand traced the line of Fred's jaw and caressed her cheek as the kiss grew in intensity, their tongues locked in silent battle. God, she was so warm, her hands moving over Wesley's hair, his shoulders, his face, everywhere.

They may have kissed for a minute, or an hour, or maybe even a lifetime; it didn't matter. Fred was there; Wes could feel her heart beating in time with his, her little body so perfect, so familiar, so wonderful to touch.

Fred pulled away for breath, her forehead pressed against his. She was crying.

" I love you," she whispered. " I love you, I love you, Wesley, I love y—"

Wes cut her off with another kiss, to which Fred complied gladly, lacing her fingers through his. Crying.

A light went on in Wesley's mind as he kissed Fred desperately, a sudden, simultaneous exchange of unseen information. Fred inhaled softly at that moment, and whispered against his mouth, " Oh."

Then, she faded away, disappearing like she had never been there, and Wesley fell back into his own body.

.

He found himself staring up at the ceiling of Wolfram and Hart's hallway, suddenly charged with a new knowledge. Wes jumped up and ran to his office, grabbing the source book before rushing into the conference room.

" Well, well, Wes," Gunn said. " I hope you're in a better mood now."

" And have realized that what Spike says should never be taken seriously," Angel added, ducking as Spike swatted him.

Wes took the decoder pin and spun it, his eyes glittering. " I know the number," he said excitedly, looking at the eyes of his friends. " I know how to prove it. I know how to use it. I know how to get her out."

.

In the bedroom of her soul's house, snug under the covers, Fred opened her eyes

" Oh my god," she whispered. " He must be kidding."

During the last seconds of their amazing kiss, Fred had had a sudden idea pop into her head, spoken by an English accent, almost as if Wesley's subconscious had given her the information she needed to help him.

But…she couldn't believe it. If that was true, then Fred needed to get working, and fast.

When she tried to get out of bed, Fred fell to the floor, weak as a lamb, her limbs like rubber.

" Right," she remembered, suddenly sheepish, crawling back between the sheets. " I forgot about the whole loss of life force thing. Must remember that."

She fell asleep, scheming, with a hint of a smile on her face, as her body worked to revive itself and her heart soared with hope.

.

Deep in the heart of the Medical facilities of Wolfram and Hart, Illyria stirred, mumbled softly in her sleep, and settled again. The techs on duty, too busy playing checkers, did not notice the faint glow of blue beneath her hands that slowly faded away, nor how her eyelids fluttered, but did not open. Not yet.

But soon.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

" The number has three digits," Wesley began to explain, sitting down and beginning to scribble on a pad. " It's quite simple, although arriving at the number is a little difficult to follow."

Lorne put his hand on Wes' arm, stopping his scrawling. " Hold up, Sugar Buns. Just how did you have this sudden epiphany?"

Wes could not help but smile. " Fred."

Angel frowned. " What?"

Wes put down his pen. " Fred. She somehow entered my soul, although only for a few minutes. I was able to see her…touch her…" Wes began to write again. " Anyhow, Charles and Lorne, you were right about the decoder pins; that's the way we figure it out, or at least the way I'll prove it."

Gunn folded his arms, grinning. " Told you so. Are we not geniuses?"

Wes nodded and spun the pin. " Yes. Right. The phrase is really much more like Calla than I first thought; the letter '' can be replaced with 'e' for the code, since in Calla, the two sounded the same. Keep that in mind.

" Anyhow, when you set the pin so that A equals 1, B equals 2, and so on, and add up the numbers that correspond to the letters in reperire præter amare, you get a sum of two hundred and fourteen. Are you all with me so far?"

Angel nodded. " Two hundred and fourteen, got it."

" Reperire præter amare has nineteen letters in it," Wes continued. " If you set the pin nineteen places forward, like so, the 1 ends up beside the S, and the 2 beside the T, et cetera. If you add up all the numbers that correspond again, you get three hundred and forty."

Lorne did some quick math in his head and nodded. " He's right so far, kids."

Wesley had a smile on his face; he felt like he was back in the hotel, showing everyone at Angel Investigations his findings after a particularly hard day of working at a prophecy or ancient puzzle. " If you add up the digits in those numbers, you get seven both times. Three plus four plus zero is seven; two plus one plus four is also seven. The first two digits in our number are sevens."

" And the last?" Gunn wanted to know.

" Three hundred and forty minus two hundred and fourteen is one hundred and twenty-six. Add up those digits, one plus two plus six, and you have nine. The number derived from the phrase is seven hundred and seventy-nine." With a flourish, Wes wrote '779' on the pad and underlined it.

" Still don't know how to prove it!" Spike sing-songed, followed by a yelp as Angel elbowed him in the ribs. " Bugger!"

Wesley shook his head. " I can so prove it, Spike," he said, his tone growing more serious. He raised the source book, bringing the spine close to him. " Illyria's cult of worshippers, especially their daily rituals and way of life," he ordered.

Placing the book flat on the table, Wes waited while the information spread itself on the pages, and then began to flip until he came to what he was looking for. Looking up at Spike, Wesley turned the book around and pushed it towards the vampire.

" Spike, Illyria's followers counted everything in increments of one hundred and thirteen," he said softly. " Their year had three hundred and thirty-nine days in it; she had one head priest, and one hundred and twelve minor clerics, in every dimension. If you subtract one hundred and thirteen from seven hundred and seventy-nine, you get—"

" —Six hundred and sixty-six, the devil's number," Angel finished, meeting Wesley's eyes. " That's…it's got to be it. Seven hundred and seventy-nine is the number. We've got the number."

Wes nodded. " Yes, we do. Thanks to Fred."

Angel grinned and stood up, clapping his friend on the shoulder. " Wes, we're going to save her. We're all behind you. We're going to work as a team to make sure that we get her back. It'll be just like old times in the hotel. A team."

Wes tried not to think of Fred and Cordelia, the members of their group that he valued so dearly now gone from their ranks. He nodded.

" Yes. The old team."

.

Fred was dreaming again, dreaming of a heat that didn't exist in her cold, cruel reality. A fireplace, a hot bath, Wesley's warm embrace, none of it to keep her warm.

She awoke to find the windows frosted over and icicles hanging from the roof. When she cautiously tried standing, Fred found she could sort of walk, if she leaned on the wall for support.

The hot water tap refused to work, spurting only icy liquid. Even after making tea, Fred could not warm up. Her breath exhaled as a thin wisp of white steam.

Exhausted from her short trip downstairs, Fred crawled on hands and knees back up to bed and slid gratefully between the sheets. As she lay there, the idea that Wesley had implanted in her brain surfaced again, and Fred frowned in thought. She couldn't possibly kill Illyria. It couldn't be done; the demon was so strong, and Fred was only human.

" Oh, Wes," she whispered. " You've gone completely insane. I don't know where to begin."

_Unlock the door._

Fred sat up as the English accent rang in her head again, reverberating into a headache that made Fred, in her weakened state, cry out in pain. When she opened her eyes a few minutes later, Fred found herself looking at the corner of her bedroom, across the floor and next to the window seat, where there was a slight crack in the yellow flowered wallpaper.

Fred slid out of bed and crawled across the floor to the corner. Without really thinking about what she was doing, she curled her left hand into a fist and struck at the wall, once, twice, and on the third try she punched a hole in the plaster. The opening looked like a black hole among the sunny innocence of the room, the eye of death looking to suck up all the good in the world.

Nursing her bruised knuckles, Fred reached into the hole with her other hand and felt around; among the cobwebs (an indication that this place was not a part of her soul's house, as Fred hated spiders) sat something smooth and solid.

Fred pulled the mahogany music box out of the hole and sat back, folding her legs. Blowing the dust off the top, Fred carefully lifted the lid of the music box, smiling briefly as a chiming version of 'Greensleeves' floated past her ears and into the frozen stillness of the room. It was her favourite classical tune, and Fred used to have a music box that played it as a little girl.

Inside the box lay a gorgeous gold locket, sparkling brilliantly in her eyes. Enchanted, almost in a trance, Fred lifted the heart-shaped locket out of the box and opened it; the inside was engraved with the word 'Love' in English, French and Latin.

Moving as methodically as a robot, Fred closed the locket with a click and undid the old-fashioned clasp, bringing her hands up behind her neck to fasten the chain. However, as her fingers were about to touch, something whispered in her brain: _No, no, not right, not meant to be, a trap!_

Fred gasped and her fingers snapped open, dropping the chain. The locket fell to the floor and crumbled into a million tiny spider-like bugs, which crawled into the hole in the wall and disappeared before Fred could scream.

Fred shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the spell's final clutter. The locket had been a trick, meant to keep her from her goal. She tried not to shudder at the thought of what might have happened had she put the necklace on completely.

In her mind, Fred imagined Illyria sneering and muttering, " Curses! Foiled again!" This image was so absurd and bizarre that Fred began to giggle, covering her mouth to muffle the sound. It seemed very out of place in such conditions.

Once Fred had calmed down, she closed her eyes. " That won't work, Illyria," she said to the silence. " I'm better than that, and I'll prove it to you."

The dust moving across the light was her only answer.

.

Wesley was in his office again, carpeting the floor with books.

Gunn and Lorne stood outside in the hall, peering through the glass beside the door at their friend in wonder as he flitted around the room, pulling books from the bookshelves, talking to himself, writing notes, losing notes, finding said notes again and occasionally ripping other notes up.

Gunn looked at the demon, suspicious. " What the hell did they put in his tea, Lorne?"

Lorne shook his head, never looking away from Wesley. " I have no idea, Sweet Cakes, but I have a feeling it wasn't decaf. Or even tea, for that matter. Maybe someone thought that Slurgan Demon bile would be a great additive; it's about twice as affective as caffeine, and wears off much slower."

" He seems to have forgotten our entire conversation about doing this as a team…why won't he let us help?" Gunn wondered. " He's been in there for the past fifteen hours."

" Oh, good, he's still at it," Spike wandered over to the window, holding a bag of popcorn. " Hope I didn't miss anything good." Munch.

Gunn glared. " You did it to him, didn't you, Spike?"

" What? Put something in Percy's drink, like? Naw, I found him like this, mate. Bloody amusing, though," he offered the bag of popcorn to both men. " Want some?"

Gunn was about to knock the popcorn out of the vampire's hand when Wes opened the door and appeared, worn out, holding a piece of paper in his hand. He looked at the three men.

" Oh, Gunn and Lorne, I was hoping I'd be able to find you," he said breathlessly. " I need you two to find the Eye of Animus. The lock to the Kei-An Box won't work without it. There's a magic shop on 30th and Broadway that should have it, is that all right?"

Spike was indignant. " What, no assignment for me?" he asked, only half kidding. Wes gave him no response.

Gunn and Lorne exchanged looks and nodded. Gunn sighed as he took the paper from his friend.

" Wes, man, you've got to take some time off of this. Go and take a nap or something to rest. You're withering away."

Just as Wes was about to protest, Angel stepped into the conversation. " Gunn's right, Wesley," he said. " Go and take the rest of the night off. We'll handle this, all right?"

Wesley shook his head. " No, Angel. Fred is depending on me; I need to help her."

Angel smiled and put his hand on Wes' shoulder. " All right, then, let me put it this way, Wes; if you do not go upstairs and rest, I will fire you. Do you understand?"

Wesley stared into the vampire's eyes for a few moments, and realized he was deadly serious. " I understand," he replied, and everyone around him breathed a collective sigh of relief.

.

Fred took a few deep breaths. _Come on, Fred,_ she told herself. _You have to do this._

With sudden resoluteness, Fred picked the music box back up and inspected it, turning it over, running her fingers over the green velvet lining. She ripped off the bottom of the inside of the box, revealing the music mechanism. Without having to think, Fred pulled out the machinery, ceasing the song of the music box; it lingered in the air as an echo, a ghost, before disappearing.

Fred continued to painstakingly destroy the inner workings of the music box until her fingers hit wood; then she slowed down, peering into the music box to see a brass key sitting at the bottom.

Maneuvering her hand past the remaining mechanisms, Fred pulled the key out of the box, pulling her knees up to her chest and holding up the key for inspection. It was an old-fashioned key, about the length of her palm from her wrist to the base of her fingers; at the head of the key was embedded an eye made of blue glass, with a white and black pupil staring up at Fred.

She grinned, turning the key to let the light from the window catch it. " Okay, Wes," she whispered. " Let's do this."

.

Wes sat at Illyria's bedside, trying to remember if he had ever seen her asleep before. Along with disobeying Angel's order to rest, Wesley had ignored his own rules and was actually in the hospital room, rather than watching Illyria from the safe distance behind the viewing glass; he wasn't sure why, but Wes needed to be close to her. Perhaps it was because of the prospect of Fred being there, too, hidden but still existing.

Looking down, Wes folded and unfolded his hands. " Illyria," he said softly. " I know you can't hear me, and that's good, because you wouldn't like what I'm about to say.

" You're going to die soon, Illyria. I'm going to send you back to where you came from, or, with any luck, somewhere worse. I will have Fred back, and I will beat you. Something I never taught you, Illyria, was that love—especially true love—can conquer everything. I realize that now…for so long, I had no idea what ran the world, and now I know that it's love."

Illyria sighed softly and murmured something incoherent in her sleep. Wesley's eyes widened. He beckoned one of the techs on duty to come into the room.

" What just happened?" Wesley asked softly, looking down at the blue demon.

The medical technician cleared his throat nervously. " Sometimes, when someone's in a coma," he tried to explain haltingly. " Their brain sends random commands. It means nothing, Mr. Wyndham-Price, just a bit of electricity coming from the brain."

Wes looked up at the young man, dread rising in his throat. " Illyria doesn't have a brain," he replied, horrified. " She doesn't use one."

When the two men looked back down at Illyria's body, they found her eyes open, staring back.


	7. Chapter Seven

A/N: Nearing the end, folks! This is probably the second- or third-to-last chapter. Hope you enjoy.

.

Chapter Seven

Wesley backed away from the bed blindly, knocking over a tray of liquids, hearing their little glass storage bottles smash to the floor. He could see nothing but Illyria, her blue eyes wide open, alert. Ready to kill, it seemed.

Watching him. Focused only on Wesley. Those eyes were like twin blue lasers set to burn out his soul.

Illyria looked down at her body, strapped onto the hospital bed. " Wesley," she said softly, controlled and calm. " All was dark, Wesley, and only now do I awake to find myself moved. Who dared to touch me? Who did this to me?" She was not confused or frightened, not in the slightest; she was interrogating him.

Wes swallowed hard. " Illyria, you used too much of your power, and you went into a coma because of it. Because you destroyed part of Fred's soul's house." Watching Illyria there, so close, so powerful, able to kill him in an instant, it occurred to him now the abject stupidity of going into the hospital room with her. Angel was definitely going to kill him for this one.

Illyria glared. " I did nothing of fault, Wesley; I only tried to rid myself of a weakness. Surely you can understand that; surely you have had a virus, an illness, living inside you?" Wes turned away and closed his eyes at the memory of Fred dying in his arms as Illyria continued to bate him. " Your body works to rid itself of the virus before it takes over; this is what I was trying to do—"

" Stop it!" Wes hissed, turning to face her again. The anger that had caused the outburst was fading now, but Illyria was smiling, knowing she had gotten a rise from him. She settled back.

" I can remove myself from these bonds you have placed," she said casually, and suddenly Wesley understood.

" Yes," he agreed. " But you won't. Not now. Not until it suits you."

Illyria stared at him. " Perhaps not. Or perhaps I will simply kill you now."

Wes folded his arms. " You won't do that, either. I know you won't."

" You know nothing, but yet you speak as though you have confidence," Illyria said softly, tilting her head to one side, inquisitive. " Interesting."

" Much like the snake has interest in the bird's nest," Wes replied, his voice equally as soft, approaching the bed. He reached over and unfastened the straps that held Illyria's body to the bed, and then stood back. " I have nothing with which to threaten you, Illyria, and I know that you can kill me. If that is your wish, than take your best shot."

Illyria stood up, stumbling a little at first but masking it rather well. She flexed her hands, and then looked up at Wesley again with the facial equivalent of a dismissal.

" I have decided to let you live," she said. " For now."

Wes did not show any reaction in his face. He had known that Illyria would spare him; it was evident in her voice. _She doesn't scare me anymore._ " Thank you," he replied. " If I let you go, will you promise not to cause trouble?"

Illyria didn't respond, but only stared at him.

" I'll take it that that was a stupid question," Wes said, opening the door and allowing her to walk out before him. " Never mind."

Illyria turned to look back at him. " Wesley," she said. " You have no idea how weak you are."

As Illyria left, Wesley turned to the two shocked technicians.

" I want continued surveillance on her," he said. " And you had better call Angel now and tell him that Illyria is awake. If she does anything, Angel should come and get me. Do you understand?"

With their nods, Wesley went back to his room. The need to sleep had suddenly overtaken him, and Wesley fell into his bed and was dead to the world as soon as he closed his eyes.

.

In his dreams, Wesley saw Fred lying crumpled on the floor of a carpeted hallway, bleeding slowly from a cut on her head, unconscious. The blood had tangled her hair a little, but she was still absolutely beautiful.

It was so cold in the hall that Wesley could see his breath, and he felt himself trembling, freezing. Illyria was disintegrating this place, eating through it slowly, like a virus. Fred's soul's house. This was Fred's prison, this place, and seeing it made Wesley more determined to rescue her than ever before.

Wes walked across the carpet to Fred and knelt down beside her, reaching out a gentle hand to smooth her soft forehead and linger slightly on her cheek. Fred shifted slightly under his touch.

" Mmmh…Wesley?" her voice was just a mumble, but Wes smiled.

" Yes," he replied in a whisper; he placed his hand in hers when he saw Fred trying to struggle to full consciousness. " No…shh…it's okay, Fred, stay asleep. I'm here. I'm with you."

Across the hall, Wes saw a key lying on the floor by a door—a key with the Eye of Animus embedded in it. He crossed the hall and picked up the key, turning it over in his hands. After a moment, Wes tucked the key into his pocket and picked Fred up in his arms, resting her head against his chest. Without having to know or ask, Wesley carried Fred up the tiny set of stairs to the loft bedroom and placed her gently on the bed, covering her with the quilt and placing the key in her hand, smoothing Fred's hair again.

" Sleep well, Fred. I love you."

Then, with a kiss to her forehead, Wesley was wide awake and opening his eyes to his own bedroom, lonely and dark, wishing that he'd slept longer.

_Oh, well. Back to work. It was just a dream._

.

Fred came to slowly, with a soft groan. The last thing she remembered was sticking the key into the lock, and then she had been blown backwards by some sort of invisible explosion and she had hit her head on the wall, effectively knocking herself unconscious.

_Stupid thing to do._

Now the world was slowly becoming clearer, and Fred realized that she was lying among the soft, fluffy pillows of her bed in the corner of the loft, rather than sprawled in the hall where she was last. The key was tucked into her left hand.

_What the hell?_

As Fred sat up, she suddenly remembered warmth, a kiss on her forehead, Wesley's voice, and she smiled.

" He's with me," she said softly.

She knew, unconsciously, why the key hadn't worked in the door; Illyria was awake. Fred had roused her by trying to unlock the door, and the same force had blown her across the room. The key wouldn't work until Illyria was dead. Until Fred killed her.

Fred swallowed her fear and went to go get dressed.

.

" Cats and kittens," Lorne announced. " We have succeeded!" He and Gunn closed the door of the conference room behind them and sat down in separate chairs, joining Wes, Angel and Spike.

" Did you have any trouble finding it?" Wes asked.

Gunn shook his head. " None, except the sales girl had the IQ of an amoeba."

Lorne rolled his eyes. " A dead amoeba, maybe. Giving dead amoebas a bad name."

Spike grinned. " Dumb blonde, eh?"

Gunn nodded. " How she possibly got to run a magic shop is beyond me," he sighed.

" Especially with those extremely dangerous Red Dragon Orbs sitting on the shelf behind her," Lorne added, and Spike and Wes winced. Wesley folded his arms.

" So…where is it?"

Angel's brow furrowed. " …Aren't amoebas dead anyway?" he said softly, asking no one in particular.

Wes suppressed a smile as Gunn gave him the paper bag. Opening it, Wesley shook the Eye of Animus onto his palm, and then placed it on the table so everyone could see.

Spike whistled. " Wow…now that's bling-bling for you."

The Eye was about an inch and a half wide, made of blue glass with black and white as the pupil. The glass was set in gold, and gold spirals curled out all around the rim of the Eye, giving the appearance of lashes.

Wes inhaled silently. " Thank you, Gunn and Lorne," he said softly. " This helps so much. This is the only way to correctly rescue Fred."

" Why d'you need it?" Spike wanted to know, reaching forward to touch the Eye. " I mean, this'd look good on a big gold chain, too."

Wes shook his head. " The Kei-An Box that imprisons Fred is metaphysical; it does not exist in this world. Once the lock has been sprung, the walls of this dimension have to be cut open in order to destroy the Box completely, and the Eye of Animus is the knife, you might say, that has the ability to do that." Wesley did not mention the key that Fred had.

Spike's hand, which had been inching slowly towards the Eye, suddenly stopped and withdrew. " All right, then…I won't be touching that…"

Angel grinned. " Wes, do you know how it works?"

Wesley nodded and took the Eye of Animus off the table. Stretching his left hand out, Wes carefully placed the Eye on the back of his hand, and suddenly it came to life; the gold 'lashes' spread out over Wesley's skin, snaking through his fingers and around his wrist to bind itself to his hand. One of the tendrils wound up around Wes' index finger and covered the first knuckle with gold, forming itself into a sharp, curved nail.

Gunn's eyes were wide. " Okay…creepy. Definitely not bling-bling."

Wes held his hand out, palm parallel to the floor. He took a deep breath. " Reperire præter amare," he whispered, and his fingers curled in and turned up, catching something. Wesley twirled his index finger twice, twisting an invisible rope around it, and then drew in the air with the nail: 7, 7, 9.

The air suddenly crackled, and a brilliant flash of white-blue light blinded everyone and blasted them away from the table and onto the floor. Wes was thrown into a corner, and another white flash burst in his eyes, blinding him. Then, he heard the scream.

Fred.

Through the bright whiteness, Wesley saw Fred curled on the floor of the bedroom in her soul's house, shaking uncontrollably. She was crying out in pain, sobbing, wracked in agony.

Wesley suddenly remembered the phone message, remembered Spike's account of Fred's return, and he knew why.

" Oh, god, Fred!" Wes whispered, realizing what he had done. He desperately tried to make her notice him, but his voice was echoing and he knew that Fred couldn't hear him. Wesley could only watch the woman he loved writhe in the pain that he had caused her.

Then the vision ended as quickly as it had occurred, and Wesley was back in the conference room, back in the real world, sprawled in a corner. He slowly pulled himself to a sitting position and looked around the room to see the others watching him very carefully.

Gunn was the first to speak. " What the hell just happened, Wes?"

Wesley looked down at his hands to see that they were shaking a little. He pinched the corners of the Eye of Animus together a bit, and felt the tendrils of gold begin to retract from his hand. When the gold stopped moving, Wes put the Eye in his jacket pocket and sighed.

" It's no use," he said softly, almost in a whisper. " We can't get Fred out. We can't save her."

" And why not?" Angel asked, anger—and a little fear, Wes noticed—rising in his voice. " Why can't we get Fred out of there?"

Wes looked up to meet the eyes of his friends. " The Kei-An Lock is connected to the brains of both Illyria and Fred," he said. " When Fred returned, she was in pain because the Lock was connected to her and was moving or straining. I imagine that it doesn't cause Illyria much pain at all, powerful as she is."

Angel's eyes narrowed. " Still hasn't answered my question, Wesley. Why can't we get Fred out?"

" Because," Wes whispered. " Because if Fred is in so much pain when the Lock is manipulated a little, completely unlocking it will kill her."

.

In the training room, Illyria suddenly paused midway through a punch. She stood back, and the demon technician that had been acting as her punching bag breathed a sigh of relief that Illyria barely heard. She placed one hand to her head, her fingers moving over her temple, and then Illyria felt the Kei-An Lock click in her mind. She jerked a little with the pain that came, but it was harmless to her. Inside of her, Illyria felt Fred scream out in agony.

The Lock wasn't open, but someone had maneuvered it. Someone had just tried to open the Kei-An Box.

Wesley.

Illyria felt mad rage boiling inside of her, and she curled her hands into fists.

_Enough is enough, Wesley,_ she thought, turning without a word and stalking from the training room._ I will finish this now, and you will not stop me._

As she walked, Illyria began forming a plan.

.

_Things could have been different._

Wes sat in Fred's room, on her bed, propped up against the backboard. His legs were stretched out, ankles crossed, and his hands were folded in his lap, giving the visage of relaxation to anyone who might have been looking on.

Eyes closed in the dusty light, Wes was remembering.

Fred dying in his arms in this very bed.

Her small body, shaking, pressed against him, her skin like ice, frightened, withering away before his very eyes.

Wesley didn't cry as the disturbing images floated by in his mind; he had no tears left. There was nothing left.

_Things could have been different._

Her soft, shaking whisper: " Please, Wesley, why can't I stay?"

_Oh, god, she died too soon,_ Wes thought. _Too soon. Why couldn't she stay? Why couldn't we have just taken off and spent time together, found an apartment together, lived together? I waited so long and watched her love others. I almost never tried to take what wasn't mine; I let Gunn have her, and I let Knox fall for her. I was so close to rescuing her, but I can't, because it will kill her. I waited, and I was cheated of her._

In his mind Wesley could see what could have been, a scene of he and Fred snuggling together on a couch, watching a movie, a normal couple living together in an apartment all their own, happy. Soul mates.

_Things could have been different._

Wesley anticipated Illyria this time, and he opened his eyes to see her standing beside the bed, watching him intently. He sighed.

" What is it that you want, Illyria?" he said softly, not moving.

Her eyes were inquisitive, and reminded Wes of a bird. " You are sitting in her room, Wesley. Fred is dead."

Wes' eyes narrowed slightly. " Yes, Illyria, she is dead; perhaps you have not yet discovered that humans miss things when they are torn from them. I miss her."

Illyria looked away from him, around the room. " She was nothing, just a few molecules that came together to form a human like any other," she said. " I do not understand why a mass of atoms causes you such pain, when they are just like any other, and when there are identical atoms that make up water, or trees, or this building."

Wesley stood up, watching her. " Fred was special," he said. " I never taught you of human emotions, Illyria. You will never understand them."

Illyria was examining her hand, curling the fingers in, watching the tendons flex as she drummed in the air. " Interesting," she said. " Fred's power…it runs in my veins now. It lends me a strange, bastard strength, considering it comes from the weakest of souls, from a human."

Wes inhaled silently. " Fred is one of the strongest people I have ever known," he replied. " Her power must be great."

Illyria looked past her hand to him. " If that is the case, Wesley, then you obviously know nothing of strength."

Wesley sighed. " Obviously."

" And if you know nothing of strength," Illyria continued, " then you will definitely not be anticipating this."

Before Wesley could even comprehend, Illyria had moved to him. For one shocking millisecond they were face to face, and Wes could see the murderous look in her eyes, and then her fist to his jaw snapped Wesley's head back, blurring the overhead light and setting it spinning in his eyes. Wes hardly felt his body crumple to the floor as he watched the dizzying lights spin and spin, until they faded into nothing and he was left alone in the dark.

.

Fred finally felt the waves of pain stop washing over her, and she was able to open her eyes.

" I've been knocked unconscious twice, today," she groaned softly to herself. " Not a good day, I think."

It was then when Fred noticed that someone was standing over her body.

With her throat tightening, Fred slowly rolled over onto her back to see a sword of blue flames resting at her throat. Fred's eyes traveled slowly up the blade, and she saw Illyria's eyes, vicious.

With a sick, cruel smile, Illyria leaned closer to Fred, her eyes blazing with the thrill of the hunt. Fred pressed her back into the floor, trying to get away, and through the surge of panic Fred heard Illyria whisper something to her that was barely understandable:

" _Run._"


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

As a little girl in Texas, Fred had always liked the game of hide-and-seek. When playing it as a child, she had always won, always stayed silent the longest, always found the best places to hide. Although the other children teased her about her gangly, thin limbs and tiny frame, they had to admit that Fred was the undisputed champion of hide-and-seek. She was the best.

Fred's love of the game had been slightly diminished in Pylea, where the penalty for being caught was death. She had gotten better at hiding, but the thrill had disappeared and been replaced by terror. However, Pylea had seemed so much like a dream that Fred had treated it a little like a game, never knowing when it was over, never giving herself up, but always thinking: _just a bit longer, just a few more hiding spots, and then it'll all be over and I'll win_. Life had become one everlasting game.

Two years ago, when Wesley had been infected by Billy, Fred had lost her passion for hide-and-seek once and for all. Being chased through an empty hotel—the ultimate place for hide-and-seek—by a madman with an axe was enough to cause Fred to hate the game.

Still, she had good memories from childhood.

The best place for hide-and-seek, Fred remembered, was at her friend Annie's house. The old farmhouse had once been a plantation home, and the basement was enormous; it twisted and turned beneath the ground for what seemed like miles, to the eyes of an eight-year-old child. Annie's parents had finished the basement with cupboards and rooms and beds and tables, and there was no limit to the places where a kid could hide. Fred recalled the dinner parties, playing in the black dark of the basement with the other children while the grown-ups were upstairs. There was something thrilling about hiding, curling up as small as she could, holding her breath when the seeker came close, the fear of being caught and the adrenaline rush that came with it all.

Now, being stalked by Illyria through her own soul's house, was nothing like that. There was nothing thrilling about this game.

This was sheer terror pounding through Fred's veins. This was knowing that there was nowhere to hide. This was the ultimate game, and the price for being caught was the loss of all hope, and the loss of her soul forever. The biggest price of all. Even with Billy, Fred had had some shred of hope that the infection would wear off; this was the final game, and this would only end when someone died.

Fred tried to breathe as silently as she could, knowing that it was useless to hide. Illyria was playing with Fred for her own amusement, hunting her prey before killing it.

Tracking Fred like she was an animal.

Fred felt anger begin to mix with the fear in her heart. She survived for five years in a place where she was nothing better than a cow; why was she allowing Illyria to win so quickly this time?

_Because Illyria can kill me by just thinking about it_, Fred answered herself. _Because I really have no chance._

Something stupid rose in her heart, something that wanted to be heroic and courageous. It was like a thorn in Fred's brain, itching.

Why don't you try?

_Stop it,_ Fred told herself. _No. There's no chance for me. I can't beat Illyria; she's so powerful. I wouldn't last five minutes._

You don't know that. Wesley said you had to kill her.

_I know that! I don't know how!_

Try.

Fred looked around. She was in the living room, crouching behind a couch. Fred realized that she had only been here once, when she had been exploring. And she had seen that sword on the wall.

Fred crept up to the mantle and pulled the scabbard from its holder on the wall, unsheathing the blade as quietly as she could. Fred had seen Wesley battle many times with a sword, and knew a little about swordplay, but she wasn't very good at fencing. Not like Wes was.

_If only I had his help,_ Fred thought.

" Do you really think you can fight back?"

Fred turned around to see Illyria standing behind her. She gripped the sword.

" I'm going to try, Illyria," Fred replied, forcing all shakiness from her voice. " I'm going to try."

In the next moment, Fred found herself staring at the ground, reeling from Illyria's punch.

" Stupid Fred," Illyria said softly. Fred jumped onto her feet just in time to parry a blow from the sword of blue flames. " Your kind never did have any sense. Always so weak…I still can't believe that you rule this world."

Fred swept her hair away from her face and got ready to defend herself again. " Yeah, well," she replied. " I find that some of them are pretty weak, myself…but you've forgotten one thing."

Illyria looked smug as they circled one another. " Really?"

" Yes," Fred said. " We also have heart. And that counters weakness any day of the week."

The next she knew, Illyria had charged her again, and the battle began.

.

_Wake up, Wesley._

No, he said stubbornly, covering his eyes with his arm against the white light of his soul's house, trying to block out the mysterious voice that was forcing him back to consciousness. I don't want to.

_Winifred needs you, Wesley. She needs your help; you must wake up._

No! I can't help her! Wes cried. Even though the yell echoed in the stark white emptiness, Wes didn't feel his lips move.

_You can. You must. Her fate—and yours, as well—depends on this. Wake up now. Winifred needs your help. Awake now, Wesley_.

.

Wes' eyes snapped open, and he inhaled with a gasp, the air sharp in his lungs. He was still lying on the carpet of Fred's bedroom, and Illyria's body lay nearby.

Wes slowly crawled over to the body, watching it carefully. Illyria's eyes were closed, and every so often she twitched a little. Her hair was changing colour, alternately brown and blue.

_Oh no,_ Wes realized. _She's gone inside herself to kill Fred. They're fighting right at this moment._

_Oh, Fred…I can't help you. You're too far away._

Fred's voice came back to him, delved from the recesses of memory to surface on his skin like a song. Four words that he was not aware he had received.

_All is not lost._

All is not lost.

It gave him some hope.

Then, as Wesley was sitting up, he had an idea.

It stood to reason that if Fred could go inside Wesley's soul, then Wes could go into Fred's. He knew that Fred had risked destroying her soul's house to go to him, but she was largely imprisoned by the Kei-An Box. Wesley would not have that trouble.

Wes sat back. Fred had the key to the inner workings of the Kei-An Box; she could unlock the door once she had killed Illyria. Wesley's job lay in destroying the Box itself with the Eye of Animus once Fred had sprung the lock from the inside. They needed to work together, unlocking and destroying the Box at almost exactly the same time.

Wes crawled over to his jacket and pulled out the Eye of Animus, placing it on the back of his left hand and feeling the vines of gold curl themselves around his hand. Then, Wesley took a deep breath and placed his right hand on Illyria's chest, where her heart would be (was, he reminded himself, because Fred's heart was there), closed his eyes, and called to her without words.

_Fred? Fred, where are you? I'm trying to find you, Fred._

He heard the answer, strained and paused. _Wesley…Wesley, I need your help._

Then Wes felt a distinct tug behind his heart, and he fell out of the world and into Fred's soul.

.

Fred and Illyria moved together through the halls of the house, dueling, their swords clashing. Fred was usually able to block the demon's strikes, but she already had one cut on her shoulder and another deep scratch on her stomach; blood was steadily discolouring her shirt. Fred knew that she was unfairly matched; she was beginning to breathe heavily with the effort, but Illyria hadn't broken a sweat—nor would she, Fred guessed, for a long while. The blue demon was enjoying the fight, enjoying playing with Fred, and her eyes were burning like twin blue fires.

Lost for a split second in her thoughts, Fred missed Illyria's attack and immediately felt pain sear across her collarbone, above her heartbeat. Gasping, Fred managed to keep a hold on her sword as she pressed her other hand to the wound, feeling blood seep through the thin fabric of her T-shirt and begin to soak her breasts. Her fingers were sticky and coated with blood when she pulled them away.

Illyria smiled. " You cannot win, Fred. Stop trying."

Fred wiped her hand on her jeans and met Illyria's eyes. " I have to," she replied, watching the demon carefully. " I have to try, because Wesley needs to know that I love him, and the only way to tell him is the kill you and get my body back."

Illyria lunged quickly, and Fred knocked her sword down and away. " You are so weak," the demon said.

" You keep saying that," Fred answered, blocking two successive strikes and trying for an attack at Illyria's midsection, which was barred. " But I'm still here."

Illyria glared. " That will change very soon."

Fred stopped suddenly, bringing her sword down by her side and meeting her opponent's eyes. " You love him," she whispered, shocked with realization.

Illyria froze. " You assume that I have emotions."

Fred shook her head. " Illyria, you love him. That is why you won't let me have this body back. You can't stand the thought of Wesley being mine."

Illyria's anger suddenly flared in her eyes, and Fred barely had time to block the onslaught of attacks from Illyria's sword. She felt her blade suddenly ripped from her hand, and heard it skitter away across the woodwork. Illyria's hand came up to Fred's neck and tightened, lifting Fred off the floor.

" I told you that you're weak," Illyria whispered menacingly. " And now you will pay for your mistake."

.

The first thing that Wesley noticed was the rumbling.

The floor of the farmhouse's living room was visibly shaking beneath his feet, and for a second Wesley wondered if Los Angeles was experiencing an earthquake at that moment. However, then Wes noticed the cracks in the walls and floors and objects, cracks that appeared out of nowhere and seemed to be full of white light. The house was falling apart, literally dissolving because of Illyria's presence. Fred's soul was dying.

Looking up, Wes stifled back a gasp of horror as he saw Illyria holding a blood-soaked Fred off the floor by her neck, choking her.

Overcome by shock and rage, Wesley conjured a fire spell before he even thought about it. Charging towards the two women, he threw the fireball at Illyria as fiercely as he could. Illyria was knocked backwards by the force of the hit; she dropped Fred and staggered back. Fred scrambled for her sword as she tried to regain the oxygen she had lost, coughing raggedly as she gasped for air.

Wesley ran for Fred's crumpled form, falling to his knees and sliding across the floor to her. Throwing his arms around her, Wes brought his lips to Fred's ear, adrenaline pounding through his veins.

" The house is going to collapse," he murmured. " You have to force the energy outwards, out of your body, or else it will kill you. Force it out; don't let it get to you, no matter what she does."

Fred nodded; however, before she could respond, Illyria's spell hit Wesley with a force that sent him flying across the room. He hit the opposite wall and landed in a heap on the floor; the wall crumbled slowly and then fell, showering Wes with plaster and causing Fred to scream.

" What did you do to him?" she cried at Illyria, struggling to her feet. The ancient goddess shrugged.

" This is our fight. He is not to interfere."

Fred's anger overcame her and she charged at Illyria, brandishing her sword. Fred actually hit her, slashing Illyria's stomach before the demon blocked her and forced Fred up against the wall, their swords crossing.

Fred was breathing heavily. " Not so weak anymore, am I?" she asked softly. " You won't kill me yet."

Illyria tilted her head. " No," she replied, and looked upwards, transforming herself. Suddenly Fred found herself staring in disbelief at her look-alike, bloodstains and all. Illyria-Fred smiled chillingly. " No, Fred. I won't kill you; Wesley will."


	9. Chapter Nine

A/N: Well, I am a little sad, but extremely proud nonetheless, to present the finale of Rekindle the Lost. I have to say that this is definitely my favourite of the chapters, and it was also the hardest to write, but undeniably the most rewarding. I hope you enjoy it.

I'm going to say my thank-you's here, so I they don't take away from the ending of the story.

Thank you to all the people who are currently hosting my stories: , Blue Moon Rising, WNW and (hopefully) a new Illyria site soon. You guys rock, and I'm glad to be part of your sites.

Thank you to Lily DeSilva, my editor, who steals my CDs when I'm late with a chapter.

A special thank you to Lara, who probably got this story going in the first place.

Most of all, thank you to my reviewers, who are true inspiration in my times of need, who keep me from getting lazy, and who are flattering and wonderful to me for no reason at all. I love you guys.

-----

Chapter Nine

.

Wesley opened his eyes slowly and turned over, groaning quietly as his bruises protested his movement; hitting a wall hurt a lot more than he imagined. Wes sighed silently and wiped his face with the back of his hand. _Why the devil am I covered in plaster?_

" Oh my god, Wesley, you're awake!"

Fred's voice from above his head. Oh, ecstasy.

Wes forced his eyes to focus and saw that Fred was sitting on the floor beside him, tears welling in her eyes. Alive, sweet, practically glowing. His Fred.

Wesley reached up to touch her face, hardly daring to believe it. " Fred," he barely whispered. " You're alive. You're here."

She leaned into his touch, smiling. " Wesley…oh, god, I was so scared…"

Wes shook his head. " Don't be," he replied softly. " It's over. It's over."

And then, he heard the voice, the familiar voice that scared him beyond all reasoning:

" Oh, it's far from over."

Wes looked past Fred to see something he had hoped never to have to witness: another Fred, identical to the one who was holding him now, standing in the hall, her sword by her side. The two Freds were perfect replicas of one another, wearing the same torn and bloody clothes, wielding the same swords, bleeding from the same wounds, the same eyes boring into his soul.

_Oh dear god,_ Wesley realized. _One of them is Illyria in disguise._

He rolled away from the Fred beside him and picked up her discarded sword, automatically falling into the defensive position.

" Which one of you is Illyria?" Wes whispered, realizing how terrified he was; he was scared out of his mind that he would kill the wrong Fred. Neither girl answered him.

_Okay,_ Wesley said to himself. _Okay. I can figure this out—it's a logic puzzle. First things first: don't assume either one to be Illyria. Let's just call both girls Fred. Fred One is the is the one who was holding me. Fred Two is the dangerous-looking one with the sword. Now—_

Before Wes could think any further, Fred Two suddenly charged, bearing her sword down to kill her look-alike. Fred One screamed and cowered, but Wesley quickly intercepted Fred Two—_She _must_ be Illyria_—knocking her sword away. In the brief moment that their faces were close, Wes snarled, " Who are you?"

Fred Two stepped back. " Don't you know me, Wesley? I'm Fred."

Wesley felt dread rise again, quickening his heartbeat and making his head pound. This game was getting very deadly very quickly, and Wes had a decision to make that would decide not only Fred's fate, but his own as well.

_Why are people always putting me in charge of things?_

Fred One pulled herself to her feet. " Wesley, listen to me…you have to believe that it's me. I'm Fred…I can even prove it to you. Do you remember when you were infected by Billy's blood? You kissed me in that hotel room, our first kiss, do you remember it?"

Wesley swallowed hard as the painful memories came back to him, still excruciating after all this time. " Yes," he admitted softly. " I remember."

Fred Two scoffed, folding her arms in front of her chest. " That proves absolutely nothing," she said. " I can 'prove' that I'm Fred, too: Wesley, you shot your father for me, without knowing that he was an android."

" The song I sang," Fred One cried desperately. " The day that I was infected by Illyria. It was 'You Are My Sunshine.'"

" You kissed me after confronting Angelus, while we were still in the Hyperion Hotel," Fred Two shot back.

Wesley held up his right hand. " Stop it, both of you," he ordered, feeling the memories try to tear his soul apart. " This will not work; Illyria—" he looked to Fred Two unconsciously, "—has all of Fred's memories, including those about Conner. This bantering doesn't prove anything."

Fred One was crying slightly. " Wesley," she whispered. " My dear, sweet Wesley…when I was in your soul's house, I asked you a question…you told me that I was your paradise. That there was nothing for you if I wasn't there. That was your answer."

Wes felt the colour drain from his face. He looked at Fred Two, but she gave no response; her face was blank and neutral.

Wesley turned back to Fred One—no, Fred, glorious, wonderful, beautiful Fred.

" Fred," he murmured. " It _is_ you."

She nodded, running into his arms. As Wes held her tightly, breathing in the scent of her hair, he saw Illyria-Fred's sword fall back by her side realized that the ancient demon was standing there, watching them, a strangely shocked and saddened look on her face. The farmhouse began to shake violently now, and objects around the room exploded into tiny pieces, almost as if there was an invisible pressure squeezing them until they burst.

Wesley pulled out of the embrace and looked into Fred's eyes. He picked up her sword and put it into her hands.

" Fred…you have to finish this. It's the only way out of here."

Fred took the blade and smiled a little uncharacteristically. " My pleasure," she replied, and then turned and charged at Illyria-Fred, her sword aimed for the heart, her intent to kill.

Wesley wanted to close his eyes, didn't want to watch Fred kill Illyria, but he couldn't tear his gaze away. It was almost over. Almost over.

Illyria-Fred stood passively, her sword loosely gripped, unmoving as Fred charged. She looked up and caught Wesley's eyes an instant before Fred got to her.

" All is not lost," she whispered, and Wesley felt horror grip him as he realized that he had made the wrong choice. " All is not lost."

Then, just as Fred reached Illyria, time slowed and then stopped; Wesley was thrown back into a memory that was not his own.

.

_He opened his eyes to find himself being forced up against a wall by Illyria, their swords crossed at the hilt._

_ Looking beyond the ancient goddess, Wes saw his own body lying limply across the room, and he realized that he was seeing through Fred's eyes, watching firsthand what had happened._

_ Wes felt himself smile weakly against his will. " Not so weak anymore, am I?" Fred's voice emanated softly from his lips. " You won't kill me yet."_

_ Illyria tilted her head a little, and then her smile widened. " No," she said. She looked upwards and transformed herself into Fred's mirror image, identical in every way. " No, Fred. I won't kill you; Wesley will."_

_ Fred pushed Illyria away, and Wesley pushed too, trying to lend his strength to her but knowing that he was only a spectator. Fred was terrified, but refused to let it show._

_ " You wouldn't," Wes felt her whisper. " You couldn't do it. He'd never believe you."_

_ In the corner of the room, Wesley heard himself begin to stir. Much to his horror—and Fred's—Illyria ran to the body and knelt down, trying to help Wesley wake. Wes felt in his heart the utter despair that Fred felt, and she allowed her blade to fall by her side, giving up. She just gave up, and, watching helplessly through her eyes, Wes cried out in shame and horror at what he had done._

_._

_ The pieces of the logic puzzle suddenly came together. All is not lost…the one thing that Illyria couldn't know. The demon has access to all of Fred's memories, but she couldn't know what Fred had learned subconsciously: the information given during their kiss in Wesley's soul's house._

_ All is not lost._

_ They had unknowingly given each other the same message._

I chose the wrong one.

Oh god.

.

" Fred!" Wesley's eyes snapped open just in time to see Illyria—the _real_ Illyria—ram her sword into Fred's stomach.

Wes was frozen to the spot, watching helplessly. The blade wasn't in very far, a sign that Fred had deflected it away from her heart, but she had gone completely white and was trembling slightly. All around them, the house began to disintegrate faster, erratically, dying more rapidly.

After milliseconds that felt like hours, Wesley found his voice again. " Fred!" he yelled desperately. " All is not lost! Finish it!"

Fred gritted her teeth, raising her sword. In a move too quick for Wesley to follow and before Illyria could react, Fred swept her blade sideways and sliced Illyria's head off.

The body of the ancient goddess swayed slowly, then fell; it dissipated into billions of black bugs as it hit the floor. The bugs dissolved into the air, invisible dust.

Fred turned to face Wesley, pulling the sword from her body and letting it clatter to the floor. She took a step towards him and stumbled, swaying drunkenly. Wes jumped forward and caught her, cradling Fred against his chest as he sank down to the floor.

" Fred," he whispered, realizing that he was crying. " Oh, Fred, I'm so sorry…I love you so much…I'm sorry…"

She shook her head and tried to smile weakly as the furniture in the room began to dissolve. " No, Wesley…no…it's finally over. L-let's go home."

Wes nodded and stood up, carrying Fred's tiny little body up the stairs to the locked door. With each step he took, Wesley felt the floor behind him crumble and fall, revealing black nothingness. The house cracked apart and dissolved as Fred grew weaker.

The door was filled with cracks by the time Wes and Fred reached it. Fred, holding one hand to her stomach, took the key out of her pocket and fumbled with it, unable to find the lock with her trembling hand. She began to cry as her blood dotted the carpet.

" Wesley…Wesley, am I dying?"

Wes shook his head firmly, refusing to believe it. The ceiling broke apart and fell around them.

" Hold on, Fred; you must hold on. Just put the key in the lock when I say, all right? It's over…we'll make it, I promise. True love survives everything."

Fred swallowed. " True love…survives everything," she repeated, and smiled weakly, a smile full of blood. " That's us, right? True love?"

Wes nodded. " Yes. That's us."

" Okay," Fred whispered.

Wesley stepped back and held out his left hand, with the Eye of Animus—nearly forgotten in all the action—ready. " Reperire præter amare," he whispered, and nodded to Fred as a signal. There was an audible, distinct click as the tumblers of the lock fell into place, and Wesley began to trace the numbers in the air: 7, 7…

Fred gasped suddenly and fell to her knees, letting go of the key. She looked up at Wesley desperately, holding her stomach, and then died without a word. The door cracked and fell into pieces, revealing blinding white light on the other side.

As the light began to spread through the hall, Wesley knelt and took Fred's already cold body into his arms, the spell unfinished and all hope gone. Wes closed his eyes and held Fred's corpse tightly, bringing his lips to her ear.

" True love survives everything," he whispered as the light filled his reality and swallowed him up forever. " True love survives everything… true love survives everything…oh, god, everything…"

.

Wesley awoke in the darkness of Fred's bedroom, awake and alive. Alone.

He rolled over slowly, fighting the urge to cry but losing the battle. He had failed the one chance he'd had to save Fred, and now both she and Illyria were dead. It was the second time that Wes had watched Fred die.

There was nothing left, now.

Then, Wesley saw her.

_Oh. Oh god in heaven, if you do exist, which I sometimes doubt. Oh, lord._

Fred's body lying a few feet away from him, colour in her cheeks. Breathing.

Alive. Fred was alive.

Wesley, too exhausted to stand, crawled over to Fred and gently turned her over onto her back, hardly daring to believe it. Wes was nearly on top of her, his torso pressed against hers, feeling her heartbeat flutter in time with his own. Wes brushed a lock of hair away from her face.

" True love survives everything," Wesley whispered. " We won. It's over."

Fred stirred softly, and her eyes fluttered before opening. A radiant smile spread over her face as she recognized Wesley, and the tears in her eyes began to fall as she reached up and gently cupped his cheek in her hand.

No words needed to be spoken; nothing needed to be conveyed. As their beating hearts sang out in perfect, silent, harmony, Wesley lowered his lips to meet Fred's and softly kissed her.

The End


End file.
